


want to believe my own hype (but it's too untrue)

by McSpot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Idiots in Love, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSpot/pseuds/McSpot
Summary: Carter liked that his boyfriend didn’t know he was a hockey player.Jake liked thathisboyfriend didn’t know he was a hockey player.Too bad they were both hockey players, and they were dating each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Recently I was reading AUs where one part of a pairing is a hockey player and the other isn't (my fic kryptonite) and I remembered [that story](https://swedishgoaliemafia.tumblr.com/post/179014517564/y-i-k-e-s) about the time that Scott Darling played against Carey Price and then the next morning saw him in the airport and when he went to say hi Carey ignored him because he thought he was a fan. And it got me thinking about what if two hockey players got together but didn't recognize each other as a hockey player and both kept their job a secret because they liked dating someone who didn't know they were famous. I laughed myself silly about it for a while, and scribetuesday enabled it into a fic.
> 
> Yes I did make up this pairing myself, because 1) I love them both so much and 2) because I could assume that they'd likely never personally met each other and could plausibly know one another's name without having a clue what they looked like. This fic will have maybe five chapters total; chapter two is already written. My readers on Tumblr said they wanted to have the first chapter for Christmas, so here it is. Merry Christmas, guys!
> 
> This takes place over the present 2018-19 season. Title is from "Superstar" by Lupe Fiasco, a song nobody has heard in the past decade.

Carter didn't labor under the impression that he was a famous hockey player. Sure, he definitely  _was_  a hockey player – had his face on a banner in the middle of KeyBank Center to prove it – and he was famous, for a given degree of fame, but he wasn't a  _famous hockey player_. Sometimes he'd been recognized around Nashville or St. Louis, and increasingly now that he was fighting for a starting role in Buffalo, but he wasn't a guy getting his face splashed across national broadcasts every night. Nobody was talking about Carter being an All-Star or representing a national team any time soon.

That type of fame was for guys like Price or Lundqvist or Quick, the sort of guys who were put in commercials and on billboards and used as the face of a franchise. Carter wasn't that guy, and in Buffalo he was more than happy to leave it to Jack and Sam and Dahls, let the kids take the fame and all the trappings that came with it.

In hockey terms, Carter was getting downright decrepit, and he was reaching the point in his life where he wanted to settle in somewhere and put down roots. He didn't have the time or the desire for picking up at clubs and trolling bars for interested stares, and he certainly didn't have the patience for putting effort into a relationship with someone who was only with him because he was a hockey player.

He knew where he ranked, in the puck bunny world. He'd seen it in the AHL, the ECHL – shit, even in Juniors. Guys like him were considered low-hanging fruit: more achievable and accessible than the superstars while still having some of the fame (and maybe a bit of the money) of a real Famous Hockey Player.

Even the ugliest thug in the minors could have a beautiful girlfriend who was miles out of his league, but she probably wasn't dating him for his personality.

It was...exhausting, to be honest. Trying to find someone who was genuinely interested in you, and not just what they could get from you, was far more difficult than anyone probably realized.

And trying to do that while being gay?

Well, Carter had just about given up hope at this point. Maybe once he'd retired he could move back to Thunder Bay and find someone there who cared more about a guy who liked hiking and dogs than a guy who played hockey. It didn't seem to be in the cards for him in the NHL.

Carter tended to beg off of team trips to the club, having reached the "old man" age where his teammates weren't that bothered if he said no. It had never really been his thing, but by now he'd reached a point in his life where the idea of having to navigate all of your hookups and one night stands just sounded exhausting.

He just wanted one, stable, dependable person to come home to, and if he couldn't have that, well, the prospect of getting a dog was sounding better by the day.

But on this particular night, his team had just won in a shootout, and Carter, who had been in net for the whole thing, was feeling pretty fucking good about himself. And so he found himself at a bar with a good chunk of his teammates, and while he limited himself to only one shot before transitioning to beer, he had a pretty good buzz going.

The sort of buzz where he was in a prime space to make some impulsive decisions.

(Back in Nashville, Pekka always said that Buzzed Carter was far more dangerous than Drunk Carter, because Buzzed Carter had all of the same impulsiveness but double the motivation to act on his stupid thoughts.)

It didn't feel that impulsive when it started. It was actually a pretty stupid way to meet someone. Carter had excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he came out, he'd walked pretty much directly into a very broad, very firm chest.

On a normal day, he'd have apologized and been on his way, recognizing that lingering with strange men in bars wasn't the image he wanted to put out to the public.

But Buzzed Carter didn't have normal days, and so he felt it was appropriate to steady himself with a hand on the man's chest and make the mistake of looking up at the man's face.

And  _wow_ , was that a face.

He was taller than Carter, maybe by half a foot or so, which was impressive on its own. There was just a bit of scruff on his face, though Carter couldn't make out the exact color in the dark of the room, and his hair was covered by a black snapback turned backwards. But even in the dark Carter could see his eyes, bright and shining, and that  _smile_  was damn near enough to light up the room on its own.

"You have a beautiful face, sir," Carter said, patting him on his chest. Yep, that was one very well-defined pectoral he had there.

He probably would have told him that too, but the man was throwing his head back to laugh, exposing the long line of his throat, and also  _wow_  was that a nice laugh.

There were so many nice things about him, and Carter would probably never be able to express them all to him. That was the real travesty.

"You're not so bad yourself," the man said. He'd brought up a hand to Carter's elbow as if to steady him, and  _wow_ , he had a lot of tattoos, full sleeves on both arms. Carter didn't know how the man could look so mouth-watering and yet he was struggling to swallow.

Maybe he'd drunk a little bit more than he remembered.

"My name's Jake," the man said. There was a soft accent to his vowels, and Carter had spent enough time around Swedes to call one when he heard one. He was still smiling like he wanted to laugh again, and oh, wait, he was looking for Carter to respond.

"I'm Carter." He would have held out his hand for Jake to shake it, except he still had a palm splayed across the guy's chest, and really, when you'd already reached that stage, what was the point in backtracking for a handshake?

He moved his fingers lightly against Jake's chest instead. From the way Jake's smile grew, it probably wasn't unwelcome.

"Well, Carter," Jake said, ducking his head down until his face was next to Carter's. "Are you here with anyone?"

In a general sense, yes, Carter had come to the club with other people, but in a technical sense... "I'm with you right now."

Jake's hand slid from his elbow down to his waist. He had big hands, large enough to cup the turn of Carter's hip and still spread lightly over his lower back, just brushing the curve of his ass.

Ooh, a handsy boy. Not bad.

"Glad to hear it," Jake purred, and  _oh_  that sounded nice. "You know, I've been having a pretty bad night, but I think things are starting to look up."

His face was still so close to Carter's, and it really was so nice. It had been such a long time since anyone had gone out of their way to flirt with Carter, let alone a guy – apparently he didn't register on a lot of gaydars.

But Jake was looking at him like he was the best thing in the room, and they may have literally just met sixty seconds ago, but Carter was quickly warming up to him.

He was looking for something long-term, but fuck it, Jake was really fucking hot, and Carter was just a little bit drunk, and he'd just led his team to their second win in a row, which on this team was a bit of a big deal.

"I'd like to keep looking up at you," he told Jake, "Especially in my bed."

He liked the way Jake's eyes squeezed shut when he did this little silent laugh.

"You're cute," Jake said. Both of his hands were resting on Carter's waist now, swaying just the slightest bit to the music. "I might just have to take you up on that offer."

"You should. I don't make it very often."

Jake's eyes crinkled into slits when he smiled.

"In that case, who am I to disappoint?"

He really, really did not disappoint.

Jake was a gentleman on the cab ride home, keeping a polite distance between them save for holding Carter's hand the entire way there. He truly was too cute for words.

When they arrived, he let Carter pull him into his house by his hand. Carter barely had the door closed before Jake had him pressed up against it, cupping Carter's face between his hands as he claimed his mouth. Carter made a brief noise of surprise, and Jake seemed to drink it up, tongue moving in broad strokes against his own. It was messy and lewd and stupidly hot.

The kiss only broke when Carter tapped his hand against Jake's shoulder, Jake pulling back just enough to press their foreheads together. The air between them was warm and filled with burgeoning anticipation.

"That was a really nice first kiss," Carter panted.

The way that Jake's eyes crinkled looked even nicer from this close.

"Want me to make it even better?"

It was honestly impressive that they made it to Carter's bedroom without either of them falling down the stairs, because Jake seemed to be dedicated to kissing Carter against every wall in his house until he was hard enough he almost came on the spot, which was the type of life goal that Carter could get behind.

He knew his bedroom was fairly sparse, seeing as he'd only moved in a few months ago, but Jake didn't seem to register anything more than the bed. Carter took it upon himself to remove his own shirt before Jake could push him down on the bed, because he was practical like that. Jake followed him down, kissing him hungrily, hands skimming up his sides and smoothing over his shoulders.

Jake was still wearing the stupid snapback, and Carter took great pleasure in tossing it across the room before tugging on the collar of Jake's shirt.

"Off."

Jake took direction like a pro, dragging his shirt over his head before diving back down to meet Carter. This time Carter could bury his fingers in Jake's short hair, anchoring him in place. There was a lot of product in it, and Carter was suddenly struck with the desperate urge to know what it looked like when it was soft and loose.

And then Jake ran a thumb over his nipple while grinding his hips down against Carter's, and Carter really did almost come in his pants.

"Oh fuck, I'm too old for this," he gasped, digging his fingers into Jake's shoulders. Jake hummed something that was halfway between a laugh and a growl, dragging his lips down the scruff of Carter's jaw to his neck. Carter was also way too old for hickeys, but damn if Jake didn't seem dedicated to giving him one.

Carter ran his hands over Jake's back, muscles thick and taut under his hands, down to a trim waist. Jake was big, but slim, and his hips fit comfortably in Carter's hands. Carter used that leverage to shove at Jake's jeans until Jake got with the picture, pulling away just long enough to get his belt buckle undone. He'd only just kicked off his jeans, sending the boxers with them, when he went to move on to Carter's own.

"Wait, wait, hold on."

Jake reared back when Carter held a hand up, frowning in confusion. "Are you okay? Did I-"

"No, no, you're good. Just..."

Carter leaned over to flip on his bedside lamp, giving him a much better look at Jake than the distant glow from the hallway.

"There, that's better. I just wanted to take in the view."

He settled back on his elbows and gave Jake an appraising stare.

And what a view it was.

Even at this angle he could see that everything about Jake was indeed big. He was uncut, dick hanging heavy and red between thick thighs as Jake kept himself propped up over Carter, and damn, that took a bit of core strength to hold that position.

Add in the...Carter craned his head to the side,  _yep_ , huge ass you could bounce a quarter off of...

Carter smiled brightly and grabbed Jake's hand, pressing it to his belt buckle. "Okay, go ahead."

Jake rolled his eyes, but the way he smiled meant he probably didn't mind too much. "You're a pain in the ass, aren't you?"

"Eh, maybe not tonight, I was thinking we'd do things the other way around. But I am definitely open to future possibilities."

The Sabres didn't play again for three days, and it had probably been more years than that since Carter had actually had someone properly fuck him. Who said Buzzed Carter didn't make good decisions?

Jake's laugh was even better when it was right next to his ear. "You're going to be the death of me," Jake said, deftly undoing Carter's belt and making quick work of his jeans. "You're going to kill me, and I'm betting I'll like it."

Carter lifted his hips and helped Jake slide his jeans off of him. "But you can't fuck me if you're dead."

He yelped as Jake yanked his underwear down, the elastic catching against his cock on the way down. From the way Jake was smirking, he was utterly unaffected by Carter's glare.

"Don't make me change my mind," Jake murmured, but he was already leaning down to kiss Carter again, bracing himself on one arm while the other skated down Carter's chest. It was an impressive show of strength, and Carter would have taken the time to appreciate it more if the last of his cognitive function wasn't draining down to his dick.

He knew it was coming, and yet he still gasped when Jake wrapped a hand around his cock, dry and warm and so fucking  _big_. Jake made that humming noise again, the one that made Carter's cock twitch in his hand, and he looked so insufferably pleased with himself that Carter had to wrap his arm around Jake's neck and keep his mouth occupied another way.

It had been a long time since Carter had felt anyone's touch but his own, and even longer since someone put this much effort solely into trying to make him feel good. For all that he'd been fast at first, Jake's touch was slow and firm now, as if he were taking special care to search out exactly what Carter liked best, what made him gasp and twitch and moan. It felt like his whole body was overheating, encompassed in the warmth of Jake's body, of his attention, of being the sole focus of that dedication.

When Carter reached down to grab Jake's dick, it was as much to ground himself as it was to return the favor.

Jake's reaction was nothing short of beautiful, his back bowing and his mouth falling open in a low moan as Carter began matching him stroke for stroke, rubbing his thumb over the exposed head of Jake's cock. It was more than a little intoxicating, to be able to get that sort of genuine reaction out of a man as gorgeous as Jake, to hold that sort of power over him.

They only lasted like that for a minute before Jake groaned and nudged Carter's hand away. He was kissing away Carter's frown before it even had a chance to form. "If there's to be any fucking tonight, we're going to have to pick up the pace."

Carter was already reaching for the drawer of his nightstand, but he couldn't help teasing, "That quick, huh?"

He yelped when Jake pinched his nipple, coincidentally making his cock twitch in excitement. Jake didn't look bothered at all, wearing that same infuriating smirk as he plucked the bottle of lube from his hand. "Don't sell yourself short."

Given the way that things had gone so far, he should have expected that Jake would try to finger him within an inch of his life. Fuck, he should have guessed it from his hands alone. His fingers were long and every movement was precise and methodical, stretching Carter like his only purpose in life was to rub slow circles into his prostate until he could cry. The warmth had turned him liquid, his entire being sparking with that burning heat, and all Carter could do was lay there and take it.

Jake kissed him through it, swallowing down every gasp and moan, panting hotly into Carter's mouth. Something hot dripped onto Carter's abs, and when he broke the kiss to look, Jake's cock was leaking a steady stream of precum.

"I'm ready," Carter gasped, his eyes trained on Jake's cock. Jake laughed and pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, reaching over him to grab at the drawer of the nightstand. Carter watched him pull out a condom and thanked whatever deities there were that they had a pretty long shelf life and that he'd even thought to toss them in there, seeing as he hadn't used them since he moved to Buffalo.

It was almost erotic to watch Jake stretch the condom over his thick cock, and that's how Carter knew it had been far too long since he'd been fucked.

"C'mon," he breathed. He tried to pull Jake back down again, but Jake's chuckles were ruining it.

" _Otålig_ ," Jake chided, and Carter didn't have to know what he was saying to get the gist of it. He narrowed his eyes, but that just made Jake laugh more, dropping a kiss to Carter's collarbone as he tried to bury his snickers against Carter's chest.

He somehow still didn't see it coming when Jake bit at his nipple, but it certainly was enough to catch his attention. Jake took that momentary surprise to slick up his cock, pressing it against Carter's loosened hole, and then it was all Carter could do to clutch onto his shoulders for dear life.

There was a difference between seeing how thick Jake's cock was and feeling it, the difference being that Carter nearly came just from having Jake inside of him, cock pressing insistently against his prostate. The only thing saving his pride was that Jake had his eyes closed and was breathing harshly as if trying to calm himself down.

Maybe it had been a while for the both of them.

But Carter never did have a lot of patience, and soon he was leaning up to nip at Jake's lips. That was enough to get Jake moving, and once he started moving, Carter lost most of his remaining brain cells. Jake fucked like he did everything else, each movement precise and level, hips moving steadily with a sort of rhythm that Carter admired all the more because it felt like his whole body was burning to ash and he couldn't dream of anything better.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, and Jake swallowed that down like he did everything else, greedy for Carter's every sound. Carter wrapped his legs around Jake's waist, tightening his ankles around the top of that magnificent ass, and when he pinned Jake's hips to his own, Jake released a sound like he'd been gutted.

He started moving faster then, pounding into Carter with enough force to knock the breath out of him, letting out a gasp with every smooth stroke.

"C'mon, c'mon," Jake murmured against his ear, and when he wrapped his hand around Carter's aching cock, it only took three pulls to get Carter over the edge. The fire burned white up and down his spine, sparks crackling along his limbs, and when Carter choked on a moan, Jake kissed that out of him too.

Carter could feel his body clenching down on Jake's cock in the aftershocks of his orgasm, and that was enough to do it for Jake. When Carter put a hand on his cheek and kissed him, Jake's hips finally stuttered and he groaned lowly. He kept moving slowly, small hitches of his hips, until he pulled out and rolled onto his back next to Carter, panting loudly. He acted like it took all of his remaining strength just to remove the condom and tie it off, tossing it in the trash next to the bed.

They lay like that for a minute, panting side by side. Jake flopped a hand onto Carter's chest and patted it. "You're very flexible."

Well God, Carter would hope so.

"You too. Very good...rhythm."

Jake turned his head to smirk at him, his nose crinkling with his eyes this time, and Carter was dangerously close to finding it cute. "Is that your way of saying that it was good for you?"

Carter made a face and swatted at him, but Jake just caught his flailing arm and brought his hand in close to press a quick kiss to his palm, apparently not caring at all where that had recently been.

"Calm down,  _ekorre_." He released Carter's hand and rolled himself into a sitting position, sliding off the bed with a groan. Carter would have protested, except Jake looked fantastic from behind, all long muscles and tattoos as he stretched. He looked even better walking away, completely at ease as he found his way to Carter's bathroom.

Carter figured out what he was doing when he heard the water running, and contented himself to sprawl across the bed, taking as much space as possible. That was the point of it being your own bed, after all.

His muscles were aching pleasantly the same way they did after a good workout, except his whole body was filled with that warm, loose, fuzzy feeling it always got when someone had fucked him well. God, it had definitely been way too long. But it wasn't like he always had someone on hand that he trusted for this – not that he'd known Jake long enough to really build trust. Or to talk to him at all...

Whatever, he wasn't about to harsh his own afterglow. Carter closed his eyes and relished in the boneless feeling that had taken over his body. He only cracked an eye when he felt the bed dip, Jake balancing one knee on the bed as he leaned over Carter. The damp washcloth was rough, but Jake worked gently and efficiently, cleaning up Carter's stomach first before moving lower. When he was finished he disappeared back into the bathroom. The water ran briefly before he came out again, rubbing a hand over his hair.

Carter didn't move a muscle, just watched him with slitted eyes. Apparently Jake was into that, because it made him smile fondly. He came back over to the bed, balancing himself over Carter so that he could press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I should probably go," he whispered in the hushed space between them, like speaking any louder might break the moment. "I'm just in Buffalo for work; I have an early flight out in the morning."

It shouldn't have bothered Carter so much that the hookup he didn't really know at all was planning on leaving, but there was a reason that Carter hadn't hooked up in a long, long time.

He never was very good at letting people go.

Great work, Buzzed Carter, getting attached to a guy who apparently didn't even live locally.

"You sure you can't stay for a little bit?" he heard himself asking.

Jake really did look torn, biting his lip as he looked down at Carter. Suddenly he shrugged, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Carter's lips before he stood upright.

"I'll have to set a very early alarm," he warned, rifling through his pants on the floor until he retrieved his phone. He tapped at the screen a few times before looking satisfied with it. Then he ducked into the hallway just long enough to flip off the lights they'd left on in their haste. It made something dumb flutter in Carter's chest.

"I don't care," Carter called, "I have the day off tomorrow."

That was actually true, for once in his life.

When Jake came back into the room Carter reached an arm out in his direction, and Jake rolled his eyes good naturedly and slid in bed next to him. It took some maneuvering but they managed to get the sheets and blanket out from under themselves. Carter had to admit it was a little sweet, how much effort Jake put into pulling the blanket over the two of them and settling it just so.

Carter leaned over to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He had only known Jake for a few hours, and yet it felt so good to have Jake's arm wrapped around his stomach, holding him securely to his side. Jake pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and settled in next to him. Carter could hear his breathing even out after a few minutes.

He stayed awake a few minutes longer, just soaking in the feeling of having someone else in bed with him, pressed up against him, sharing in his warmth. If it was only going to happen this once, then he wanted to get the most that he could out of it.

He fell asleep between one breath and the next.

~~~

Jake didn't normally like the sound of his alarm, but he liked it even less this particular morning. He didn't know if he could even call it morning, given that the sun had yet to rise and he felt like he'd barely slept. That was what he got for his  _extracurricular activities_ , he supposed.

It really was bad form to spend the night with a hookup he didn't know, but he'd loathed the idea of having to leave Carter like that, when he was so soft and pliant in the afterglow. He looked down at Carter, who had rolled over in his sleep and was now nestled firmly against his chest. He'd stirred a little when the alarm went off, but quickly fell back asleep.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jake could see how sweet Carter looked in sleep, his face slack and gentle. God, he really had been amazing. If he'd lived even a little bit closer...

Jake stopped that thought before it could fully form. He wasn't sure a team could physically play any further away from Buffalo than Vancouver. Carter wasn't going to pick his life up to move to Vancouver just so they could give dating a try, and Jake certainly wasn't leaving Vancouver without a trade he didn't want.

It was just bound to be one of those things that you remembered fondly on a lonely night.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Carter's head and stroked a hand down his back.

"Hey," he whispered, "I have to get going."

Carter grumbled a little, and it took rubbing his back more for him to actually open his eyes, even then just enough to give Jake a disgruntled squint.

"You call this morning?"

He looked so offended, and Jake was far too charmed. He ran the tips of his fingers over Carter's face, rubbing a thumb over the arch of his cheekbone.

"I did say it would be early," he apologized. "I really can't miss my flight."

Or more accurately, he really couldn't miss being back at his hotel room when the team packed up to head to the airport. His only saving grace would be that the team hadn't instilled much of a curfew, and he would be one of the last people that they'd expect to violate it.

He hadn't planned to be out all night; actually, Jake hadn't planned to hook up at all.

But when Carter had bumped into him at the club, with his beautiful smile and perfect face and dumb-but-effective pickup lines...well, Jake knew a good thing when he saw it. And Carter was a very good thing, even if this was all they would have together.

It had just been nice, for once, to have someone who picked him up at a bar because he thought Jake was hot and had a nice smile. He could get that in Sweden, but there was pretty much no one in Vancouver who didn't recognize him at this point. Every new relationship he'd had began with this weird imbalance where the other person knew so much more about him, had so many more expectations of him, of who they thought he should be.

Carter's interest was honest, even if he was initially only attracted to Jake physically. It was...refreshing.

That being said...

Jake looked himself over and winced. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

Carter was already waving him off. "Nah, go ahead. I'd offer to join you, but I don't want to make you late."

He didn't sound bitter about that, but maybe a little sad. Not for the first time, Jake felt a pang of regret. If they even lived on the same half of the continent, he'd try to see if they had something between them. But for now, this had to be it.

It felt impossibly cold to extricate himself from Carter's arms and crawl out of bed. The room was still dark, but he could see enough to scoop up what looked to be most of his clothes and take them to the bathroom with him. He couldn't do much for the wrinkles, but at least he could get himself clean.

He used the bathroom while waiting for the shower to heat up. The bathroom was just like Carter's bedroom and the flashes he'd seen of the rest of the house: nice, and large, and devoid of almost all personal touches.

It made him a little sad, thinking of a guy like Carter living in a big empty house all by himself. It gave him stupid, impossible ideas.

When he got out of the shower, he thought briefly of searching Carter's cabinets for some sort of hair product before dismissing the idea. He'd have to go back to the hotel and change anyway; he might as well wait to fix his hair there.

Jake pulled back on last night's clothes, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything. When he came back into the bedroom, the bed was empty and unmade, but the light from the hall was on, and he could hear clattering downstairs.

He could have kissed Carter when the scent of coffee brewing hit him on the stairs. In fact, that's exactly what he did. Jake followed his nose to the kitchen, finding Carter there at the stove, poking at what looked to be fried eggs.

Jake came up behind him, resting his hands on Carter's waist and ducking his head to press a wet, smacking kiss to the mark he'd left on Carter's neck.

"Is this for me?" He propped his chin on Carter's shoulder.

"I don't know, do you deserve it?" Carter asked lightly.

Jake smiled and shook his head. God, he liked this guy.

"If I had more time, I'd earn it all over again," he said. On a whim, he rocked his hips lightly against Carter's ass, now regretfully covered in a pair of grey flannel pants.

He was gratified to see that the red flush crawling up Carter's neck came from more than just beard burn.

"Maybe you'll just have to come visit sometime."

Carter grabbed an English muffin from the toaster and deftly flipped the fried egg on top of it, followed by a few strips of bacon that had been sizzling on the side of the pan. In a few seconds he had it wrapped in a large napkin and turned to present it to Jake with a flourish.

When he caught Jake's eye, he smirked. "Or I could visit you. I travel a lot for work too, you know."

Jake shook his head in disbelief, watching Carter grab a travel mug from his cupboard and begin filling it with coffee. "Is that why this place looks like it's barely lived in?"

Carter shrugged. "That, and I'm pretty new here. Moved for work. Cream and sugar?"

"Black is fine." He took the mug from Carter, squinting at the logo advertising for some sort of car dealership in Ontario.

"You can keep it," Carter said, apparently having seen Jake eyeing the mug. When Jake looked at him quizzically, he shrugged. "It was free, and I didn't even end up getting a car there. I was just helping my parents shop for a new car."

The coffee was amazing, maybe just because Jake was half-asleep, or maybe because he kind of liked everything about Carter.

"You're from Ontario?" He smiled when Carter nodded, focused on pouring his own mug of coffee. "I live in Vancouver."

Carter whistled slowly. "Well that's a bit of a relationship-killer, eh?"

Jake should have agreed with him, and just a minute ago he had been, but...

He couldn't shake the feeling that if he left Carter right now and let this be the end of it, he'd always regret it. Jake didn't like dealing in regrets.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be. We both travel a lot, you probably have as hard a time as I do keeping a relationship at home when you aren't around very much. What difference should it make if we don't live in the same city?"

Carter squinted at him like he thought maybe he was still asleep. "The whole living in different countries on different ends of the continent thing?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Jake shrugged. "We can text, and Skype. And if things go well, maybe I could come visit you?"

It sounded naive to his own ears, but Carter must have wanted it too, because he warmed to the idea quickly.

"Maybe it's a bad idea, but I haven't liked anyone as much as you in a long time, and last night was..." He shook his head and cleared his throat; Jake didn't bother trying not to feel a little smug.

"Yeah. Okay. We'll try it."

The way that Carter kissed him couldn't be a mistake. Even if Jake was nearly late getting back to his hotel, the number in his phone was worth it.

Maybe things wouldn't work out, and the distance would be too much, but what did it hurt to try?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter will be finished sometime tonight so I'm letting myself post this one now while some people may still be conscious. This part takes place in the first week of December.

To be honest, Carter hadn't been sure what he expected from his relationship with Jake. Probably that they would text for a few days, and then communication would peter out long before they could call what they had a "relationship."

Except...it didn't. He and Jake texted every day, and they spoke on the phone nearly as often, and Jake made a point of setting up Skype calls at least twice a week. It turned out that they both had pretty crazy schedules – Jake travelled around nearly as much as Carter, and was constantly getting sent around Canada and the US for meetings and conferences – but just like in everything else, Jake seemed really dedicated to making this work.

And he  _cared_. That was the weirdest part of it. When your first meeting with a guy was asking him back to your place for a one night stand, it was kind of reasonable to expect that he'd only want to stay in contact for sex, even if it was only via video chat.

But Jake actually gave a shit about Carter, as a person. He put effort into getting to know him, sending him pictures of the places he went, asking him questions about his life.

The night that the win streak ended at ten games – the night where Carter let his team lose – Jake was scheduled to call. Carter had texted him to tell him not to bother; he was exhausted and miserable and wasn't going to be very fun to talk to.

Jake had called anyway, on FaceTime to boot. Carter had rejected it the first time, feeling grumpy and sorry for himself, but Jake had quickly followed up with a text.

_What's wrong? Let me help. :(_

And not even a moment later:  _I don't want you to be alone if you're sad._

The bitchy, self-destructive part of Carter wanted to ignore him to prove some sort of point, but to whom, he wasn't sure. The sad, dejected part of Carter really, really wanted to see someone who knew absolutely nothing about his hockey failures.

He accepted the next call.

"Hey, there you are!" Jake smiled like he was surprised Carter had actually picked up. Carter was a little surprised too.

He almost felt a little bad for how quickly Jake's face pinched in concern. "What happened,  _ekorre_?"

One of these days, Carter was going to have to ask Linus what that meant, because Jake called him that all the time. Usually when he was teasing him, but it was sounding increasingly fond.

Right now he could use having someone who was still fond of him.

"Nothing. I'll get over it. Just...bad day at work."

The streak had to come to an end eventually. It just sucked that it had to come when they were so close to making history for the team, about to break the franchise record.

He could have told Jake that, but then he would have had to explain that he was a hockey player, and some part of him just...wasn't ready for that. At this point he trusted that Jake probably wouldn't treat him any differently, but it was nice to have someone around who didn't know to look to google to see how the public presently rated his worth.

Jake made a sad sound and his hand came into view as he tapped the side of his phone, this impossibly, stupidly charming thing he did in lieu of being able to touch Carter's cheek.

God, Jake was a sap, but Carter was so here for it.

"What can I do?" Jake asked.

Carter shrugged, settling back against his stack of hotel pillows. "I don't know. Distract me. Tell me about your day."

"Me? Hmm." Jake did the same, though by now Carter recognized that Jake was in his own bed tonight, back in Vancouver. His hair was getting a little long again on top, fanning freely over the pillows without any product in it. It looked just as it had when he'd said goodbye at Carter's house, and Carter ached to touch it, knowing it was exactly as soft as it looked.

"I had a good day," Jake finally said. "A little hectic at work, but we figured things out. I got a little nervous later on though, because my boyfriend didn't want to talk to me."

Carter squinted at his phone, the way he knew would make Jake laugh; Jake didn't disappoint, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

"What's that face for?"

"I don't know," Carter said in an airy voice, "I just didn't know we were, y'know. Putting a label on it now."

Jake raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered as per usual. "Is it wrong?"

"No, it's not wrong...it's quick, maybe. It's only been a few weeks."

He would admit he was a little too focused as Jake stretched an arm up over his head, settling on the pillow above him with his tattoos on full display.

"I don't know about you, but I don't have anything else going on," Jake said. "And I don't really plan to go looking any time soon. This is a weird setup, maybe, but if it weren't for the distance, I'd have locked you down by now."

Carter snorted. "Locked me down? What would you do, ask me to go steady? Give me a promise ring?"

"I'll take the ring back if you don't want it." Jake's eyes were scrunched into slits, and his smile was ridiculously self-satisfied. Carter wanted to kiss it off of him.

"Don't you go giving back my ring before you even give it to me. I need some sort of sign of mutual affection."

"I thought that's what jerking each other off is for."

Carter couldn't even pretend to be irritated at that one, shaking his head and laughing. "Whatever, man. So you want to make it official then?"

Jake canted his head to the side, giving the camera a scrutinizing stare. "What's your schedule look like next week? Think you could make it out here for a few days so I can give you that sign of mutual affection? I can cover the ticket."

That was actually enough to shut Carter up for a minute. He knew Jake had to make a good deal of money – nobody would be paid to travel as much as he was and not be making a good amount from it, and from the shots of his condo that Carter had seen, Jake certainly wasn't strapped for cash – but it was completely another thing to offer to fly Carter out to Vancouver on a booty call. It was flattering that Carter's ass was worth that much to him, but also a little odd.

"You really want me to come out there that bad?"

For some reason Carter was expecting Jake to scoff or roll his eyes, take some of the weight out of the moment. But Jake's face was painfully sincere.

"Well, yeah. Of course I want to see you. Talking on here is nice, but it's not the same."

Carter couldn't question that, seeing as he agreed entirely. It was just so stunning, to find himself on the same page as Jake even wrapped up in this convoluted story they were writing.

His stupid heart gave a little frisson of excitement.

He pulled up the calendar on his phone. It would be a ludicrously tight fit, but...

"I could maybe make it out for two days," he said. "If I fly out Tuesday evening and I make it back in time for work Friday morning..."

If he could drag himself through practice on Friday without being overtired and making an ass of himself, that was.

It was a stupid, crazy idea, but the way that Jake's face lit up made Carter want to do a lot of stupid, crazy things to keep him smiling like that.

Before Jake could get too ahead of himself, Carter added, "But I pay my own way."

Jake paused for only a second before he nodded. "It's a date."

Flying across the continent to have his first real date with his boyfriend. Carter's life never did follow a normal path.

But then Jake suggested that while they were already on camera, they may as well do something to "celebrate" their upcoming date, and that made a little more sense.

~~~

It wasn't that Jake kept his apartment very messy; if anything, he liked to think that he was one of the neater guys on the team. Certainly cleaner than Virts or Hutty – but then again, being more of an adult than Virts and Hutty wasn't a very high bar to clear. Petey was more of an adult than Virts and Hutty.

Jake's apartment was in an acceptable condition to have the boys over for drinks and videogames, but it wasn't "have your boyfriend travel from another country to come visit you" nice. It looked like it belonged to a bachelor, with the bathroom counter overtaken with toiletries and the cabinets a little concerningly bare, and most of his "decor" being hockey memorabilia from his career.

Granted, he technically was a bachelor, but that's not the front he wanted to show to Carter. Carter wasn't that much older than him – only a little over four years – but he definitely seemed like a guy who had his shit together. From what he'd said since they'd started talking, it was honestly pretty remarkable that he and Jake even met, seeing as it was the first time Carter had been out at a club in over a year.

"It's just not really my scene anymore," he'd said. "Not that it ever really was, but..."

He'd shrugged. "I guess I leave that to the younger guys now. I'm getting pretty boring, I mostly just fantasize about when I can go to bed next. I honestly can't remember the last time I actually picked someone up at a bar."

That still made Jake feel a little smug to think about, something warm settling in his chest. The more he'd gotten to know Carter, the more he'd realized that Carter was a fucking  _catch_. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was witty, with a sly sort of intelligence that snuck up on you. He was compassionate and maybe a little self-sacrificing at times, but only because he cared a lot about his friends and his job. The way he talked about his career, Jake was sure he definitely didn't give himself enough credit. He couldn't imagine a guy like Carter being anyone's version of second-best.

And out of all the people he could have met, all of the nights he could have gone out, he'd picked Jake, and he'd kept picking Jake, every time he kept their little modern epistolary romance alive instead of giving up to be with someone more accessible.

What guy wouldn't get a bit of an ego boost from that?

The thing was, Carter was definitely looking for something long-term, and had essentially said as much. Jake was too, and he wanted to express that, but his condo was just...not suited to supporting those goals.

He'd changed his linens and made sure all of his laundry was clean and neatly put away, but it felt like his place still screamed, "I don't actually know how to fold a fitted sheet even with an instructional video."

Part of him wondered if Carter knew how to fold a fitted sheet. Good couples were all about complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses, after all.

Jake did his best to make his apartment look welcoming. He pulled out the throw blanket his grandmother had given him for Christmas one year and draped it over the back of the couch. He made sure his fridge was stocked with more than just beer and Gatorade. His countertops were straightened, his dishes were washed, his bathroom was scrubbed clean, the whole place was vacuumed from top to bottom.

The condo was as ready as it would ever be.

Yet Jake couldn't stop sending doubtful glances to his hockey paraphernalia.

It wasn't that he wanted to  _hide_  his career from Carter. The last thing he wanted was for them to have secrets between them. That wasn't how you built a solid foundation for a long-lasting relationship.

But at the same time, he liked the way Carter treated him. It was easy and uncomplicated the way that his prior relationships had never been. Carter just saw him as Jake, his boyfriend, and that was how he wanted to keep things.

He didn't hide his job. He just...used a certain version of the truth. Carter had never explicitly asked what his real job was, and so Jake had never had to lie.

He didn't want to start now.

The memorabilia could probably stay. The jerseys he had framed didn't display the backs, and so his last name wasn't visible. Not that it would really matter; Carter had never recognized him as a hockey player yet, and so if he saw his last name on a jersey he'd probably just think it was something Jake had made for himself.

It wasn't lying if Carter came to his own conclusions and Jake didn't bother to correct him, right?

Jake told himself that he had to relax. Carter's flight was due at nine in the morning, meaning he'd had to leave Buffalo at a truly hellish hour of the morning. Their time together was going to be ridiculously limited; Carter had to fly out tomorrow evening in order to be home for work on Friday morning. It happened to coincide with when Jake had to go play a game, which worked out well, but he still regretted that they couldn't find more time together.

Maybe further down the road in their relationship they could consider the idea of one of them moving. Jake never entirely knew where each draft and trade deadline would bring him, and he'd really like to stay in Vancouver, but if Carter's business was as international as it seemed to be, maybe he'd be able to relocate to somewhere closer to Vancouver? If they had him travelling so much, it didn't seem like it was a very big deal where he was based the rest of the time.

Whatever, that was all much further down the road than where they were. Right now they were still getting to know each other, and Jake would say they were having a pretty damn good time of it. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like he'd known Carter for so much longer. Even when he didn't come right out and talk about the stresses of a struggling team and the weight of being a starter resting on his shoulders, it was like Carter just  _got_  him in a way that none of his other relationships ever had.

His teammates already thought he looked whipped.

"Who's Marky texting?" Guddy had asked last night, trying to swipe his phone as he walked by Jake's stall. Jake had easily hidden it behind his back, and Guddy didn't try too hard to get it, but it drew the attention of a few of the other guys. It looked like after a loss, it was easier to tease Jake than to focus on how many times they let Minnesota score on the power play.

Whatever, Jake would be their sacrificial lamb if it made them feel better.

"Yeah, you look happy." Hutty narrowed his eyes at him. "Who said you're allowed to be happy?"

Beags looked over in interest. "Is it a girl?"

DZ patted him on the shoulder and shook his head sagely. "Now, now, let's not be discriminatory. Our Jakey here accepts all kinds."

Jake didn't need to look to feel Anders still next to him; he nudged him with his arm and shot him a brief smile, shaking his head once. It was good knowing he had that type of support on the team should he need it, but he knew when the boys were teasing with good intentions.

"What it is, is none of your business," he'd said.

He entirely expected it when he was pelted with boos and balls of used tape.

It didn't bother him in the least. He pulled his phone out again, and was unable to help himself from smiling at Carter's most recent message.

 _One more sleep!_  Jake had texted him before the game, attaching maybe a few too many heart and sleep emojis.

 _For you, maybe. One micronap and airport coffee for me_ , Carter had replied.

He'd attached a picture of himself squinting grumpily at the camera, already tucked into bed.

Jake had saved it to his photos and shoved his phone back in his pocket before his teammates got any more ideas.

He was a little jittery when he went to pick Carter up from the airport. It was fairly early in the morning, but he kept a toque on his head with his hood pulled up over it anyway, hoping to keep from being recognized. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to Carter why he was getting asked for autographs and pictures in an airport.

Of course, the whole "slumped in a hoodie trying to look invisible" aesthetic was completely at odds with his desire to look good for Carter, but needs must.

Apparently he and Carter were on the same wavelength because he almost wouldn't have noticed Carter coming through the arrivals gate if he wasn't looking for him. He had his head ducked low and a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes as he looked down at his phone. He was wearing a nondescript grey hoodie and looked incredibly rumpled and grumpy. But when he looked up and his eyes landed on Jake, his face split into the most breathtaking smile.

God, Jake couldn't wait to take him home.

Carter sped up to reach him, nearly seeming to forget he was dragging his small suitcase behind him. He stopped short about a foot away from Jake, jolting like he'd had to stop himself from moving closer.

Jake could commiserate, his hands frozen mid-air from where he'd gone to grab Carter by the hips and reel him in for a kiss. He'd never had issues with public displays of affection in any of his prior relationships, but if someone took a photo of them together, and then Carter had to find out who he was from social media...

"Hi," he finally said, letting one of his hands fall on Carter's shoulder. His face was doing something of its own accord that must have been a smile, based on how much it was starting to ache. God, but Carter looked even better than he'd remembered, even coming off an early flight with almost no sleep.

"Hi." Carter smiled back, and they stood there like that for a good twenty seconds, just staring at each other like idiots until finally Carter cleared his throat and said, "Uh, you brought a car, right?"

"Right."

Jake shook himself and reached down to grab the handle of Carter's suitcase. That turned out to maybe not be so helpful, because Carter had brought one of those tiny carry-on suitcases so that he didn't have to deal with checked luggage, which was normally fine except for the fact that Jake was way too tall for those bags and had to hunch over to roll it. He could see Carter smirking at him out of the corner of his eye, left with just a backpack slung over his shoulder.

With a flourish, Jake just picked up the suitcase instead. Carter was chuckling quietly to himself, but he went out of his way to bump Jake's shoulder as Jake led them to the parking lot.

It was all so seamless and easy, and it felt so, so good.

If Carter had any thoughts on the quality of Jake's car, he didn't express them. Actually, he didn't express much of anything, because once they were inside with both doors shut he lunged across the console to smash their lips together.

Jake made a noise of happy surprise and kissed back, curling his fingers in Carter's short hair in a vain attempt to hold him in place. God, he'd missed this. He'd only had it once before, for just a few short hours, but he felt like he could never forget the way that Carter's mouth felt on his own, hungry and demanding. It was like Carter's body had been seared into his own, settling under his skin, and now it called out when it recognized its match again.

When Jake broke the kiss with one last nip to Carter's lips, he settled their foreheads together. Carter's smile felt like a giddy secret in that hushed space between them.

"I missed you," Carter said. The words were so simple, but they felt like a hit to the solar plexus, taking a Shea Weber slap shot without pads. Carter looked so quietly happy just to see Jake again, and Jake was sure that he'd made the right decision.

This, right here, this was something private, meant to be cherished in the soft spaces outside of the media's harsh and fickle attentions. He was going to protect Carter from that for as long as he could.

Carter was drowsy on the drive home. Jake kept shooting glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, watching how his head tilted against the window, eyes glazed and half-shut as he watched the city pass by.

He reached over and laid a light hand on Carter's knee, squeezing briefly. "Have you ever been here before?"

Carter hummed. "A few times. Never really gotten a good look at it before. I was always so busy running around for work."

"It's a beautiful city." Jake forced himself to keep his eyes on the road. A soft, drowsy Carter was distracting enough to make driving dangerous. "Maybe I can show you around a little bit this afternoon."

He waited a few seconds, but when he didn't get a reply, he gave in and snuck a glance at Carter when they reached a red light. Carter was slumped against the window, his face peaceful in sleep.

Jake smiled and turned forward again.

Yeah, the sight-seeing could wait a little bit.

Right now, all he could think about was getting Carter home and wrapped up in bed. The thought of a nap and waking up to that face...it was a better sight than even the city's most beautiful vistas could offer.

~~~

Carter hadn't meant to sleep away so much of his limited time in Vancouver. He'd been proud of himself for doing such a good job of staying awake as he got off the plane and followed Jake to his car, only to crash on the ride back to Jake's apartment. When Jake roused him to go inside Carter had insisted he was going to stay up...and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a strange bed, splayed across a warm, firm, familiar surface.

"How long was I out?" He tried to cover his yawn with his arm and blinked a few times to clear the fog from his eyes. He was still in the same clothes he'd travelled in, and sleeping in jeans still sucked as much as he'd remembered.

But Jake was laying under him, smiling softly at him as he set his phone aside and reached out to pull Carter closer, and okay, Carter could definitely handle that kind of wake-up call.

"It's just past noon," Jake said between light, teasing kisses. He moved away as Carter leaned in, and Carter was still too groggy to do more than whine in protest. Of course, that just made Jake smirk and kiss his cheek.

"Do you want something to eat? I was thinking maybe we'd eat lunch here, and then tonight we could go out."

"I could definitely eat something," Carter said gamely. He stared at Jake with wide eyes until Jake's face flushed in understanding.

"I'd prefer it if you were a little more conscious for that. C'mon, I'll make us lunch. You can shower if you want."

Carter was half-tempted to make another come-on, except even he knew that it was really more a force of habit right now than an actual desire. Even with his unplanned nap, he was still disoriented enough from his fucked up schedule and the time change that he wasn't sure his dick presently knew which way was up.

Well. Give it time. Hopefully by tonight it would figure itself out.

Jake made them chicken and pasta for lunch, the true meal of champions. It was clearly something he made often, and Carter had to bite his tongue to keep from cracking a joke he'd then have to explain. God, the team nutritionist would love his boyfriend for making him stick to the diet plan.

Then again, Jake's condo was covered in enough hockey merch that Carter would hazard he could have played hockey at some point in his life. It wouldn't be that weird; if Linus was to be believed, half of Sweden had played hockey at some point in their life.

"Canucks fan, eh?" he'd asked while they ate. Jake had flushed again, and Carter was greatly enjoying figuring out what he had to do to trigger it.

"I, uh, yeah. I live here, it's a very Swedish team." He half-shrugged, still looking adorably self-conscious.

Carter just smirked and shook his head, stabbing up pieces of penne with his fork.

"No worries. Except, y'know. Team Canada's the best, so."

Scratch that, Jake's mouth hanging open in outrage was possibly even more entertaining than making him blush.

"Excuse me? Team Sweden are the reigning world champions. Where did Canada place again?"

Even though Carter had never been tapped to play international hockey, it was still his patriotic duty to stalwartly defend his team to foreigners. Eventually they got so wrapped up in their debate that he forgot what had started the conversation in the first place.

Despite Carter's insinuations that he'd really be fine spending their brief time together in bed (with perhaps a little less napping this time), Jake was dead-set on showing him around town. So with only minimal grumbling, Carter pulled his cap down over his eyes, took Jake's hand, and let himself be wooed.

Carter didn't have any real fears of being recognized in a city like Vancouver. Even as a Canadian goaltender, he was nowhere near the type of superstar to imprint his image across the Canadian media landscape. He'd watched himself in the airport earlier, because you never know what mix of people you'd find in an airport, but he felt pretty safe right now. Vancouverites saw so many actual celebrities on a regular basis that he strongly doubted he would stand out, and so he didn't have any issues holding Jake's hand, or leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

Or at least he wouldn't have, except Jake was starting to get a little cagey. For someone who was usually so demonstrative in his affections, Jake was getting twitchy at the slightest brush of skin to skin contact.

Jake had decided that they'd spend the afternoon walking around Stanley Park, because the weather was nice and the park was likely to be quieter in the tourism off-season. It was still predictably windy walking along the waterfront, and every time Carter pressed up against Jake's side, hoping to shield himself from the worst of the wind, Jake took a large step away. Every time Carter took his hand, Jake let him hold it only for a moment before pulling away, turning it into a gesture like he was going to point something out in the scenery.

Carter wasn't the most observant of guys, but he'd go as far as to say it seemed that Jake didn't want Carter touching him in public.

It would explain why he hadn't been surprised that Carter didn't hug him at the airport, but it was also confusing as fuck.

If Jake was that closeted, why would he have invited Carter out here in the first place? And why would he have insisted that they leave his apartment?

Carter kept his mouth shut because he didn't want to ruin a nice day. And it  _was_  nice: the scenery was beautiful, and Jake was fantastic, making a point of narrating the placards on different landmarks as if he had a clue what he was talking about. For all of his weirdness about physical contact, Jake went out of his way to have them take a bunch of selfies together, leaning in close so that their heads were together in each picture. It was just that immediately afterwards he'd spring away far enough that Carter would wonder if it had happened at all, if his phone didn't buzz with an incoming copy of the picture a few seconds later.

He let it slide until they went to dinner. Jake took him to a steakhouse, the type that didn't have a dress code, but was upscale enough that Carter could imagine having a team dinner there.

Now, Carter had never really been one for PDA at restaurants. Sitting on the same side of the table made conversation impractical, and he firmly believed there was a special place in hell for people who thought it was a good idea to try to hold your hand while you were eating.

But there was that, and then there was Jake, reacting every time his stupidly long legs brushed against Carter's under the table as if he'd been electrocuted. After the third time he'd flinched away and tried to turn his body so that their knees somehow magically wouldn't brush in the limited space allotted to them, Carter had to roll his eyes.

He leaned in over the table and lowered his voice, hoping not to make a scene.

"Look, I was trying not to say anything, but seriously, what the hell? You've been acting weird since we left your place. If you didn't want to be seen with me, or if this is some sort of closeted thing..."

He didn't have to finish, because Jake had jolted again, but this time shooting out his hand to cover Carter's own.

"No!" he hissed, clearly modulating his volume at the last second so he sounded mildly strangled. "No, that's not it at all. I just..."

He trailed off, his eyes following something over Carter's shoulder. Frowning, Carter turned and followed his gaze.

Ah.

Jake was having a moment of hero worship, and Carter might just be shooting himself in the foot.

A group of Vancouver Canucks had just been seated in their area, enough that Carter actually recognized more than one of them. He recognized Edler and Tanev after how long they'd played for the team, and in context he was pretty sure one of the younger guys was Bo Horvat. Of course, given that he couldn't name all of the guys in that group, there'd normally be a strong probability that most of them wouldn't recognize him either – they'd be used to seeing him with his face covered by a mask, after all – except with them was also Michael Del Zotto, who had actually played part of a season with Carter and undoubtedly would know exactly who he was.

It wasn't that Carter didn't want to tell Jake who he was, eventually, but he didn't want to spring his job on Jake by being recognized by players from his favorite team. He wanted to enjoy their relationship for what it was, at least for a little while.

There was also the matter of Carter not exactly being  _out_. Not that he'd ever really been  _not_  out either, but the court of public opinion didn't care much for semantics. Most guys in the league paid lip service to being progressive, but Carter had been in enough locker rooms to know that it wasn't always true.

If it came right down to it, he wouldn't want Jake's first interaction with some of his heroes to be seeing them mock his sexuality via his boyfriend.

Their food hadn't even arrived yet. There wasn't a good way for Carter to try to gracefully exit the situation without ruining their date. His best hope would be claiming he was ill, which would still ruin the rest of his trip because even if this was more than a booty call, Carter was still hoping to get laid sometime in the next twenty-four hours, and nobody wanted to have sex with someone who claimed he had to rush home early from a restaurant because he thought he was going to puke.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he announced, sliding out of the booth as quickly as he could, which wasn't very fast at all because his legs really were tangled up in Jake's. Restaurant booths weren't made for tall guys, that was for sure.

Jake was watching him with wide eyes, still shooting obvious glances at the Canucks. Carter couldn't think of a good way to address that situation, and so he took the coward's way out and said nothing, instead fleeing for the bathroom.

It was a good plan for all of twenty seconds. It gave Carter a chance to breathe, to get his wits about him and start to think of how he wanted to proceed-

And then Jake came bursting in the bathroom door behind him.

They stood in the middle of the bathroom together, staring at each other.

"Uh...you too, huh?" Carter asked lamely.

Jake blinked as if he were surprised to see Carter there, even though Carter had announced where he was going.

"Ah, yeah, I...had to go." Jake shot a look at the row of empty urinals. Carter looked at them too, because it was easier than awkwardly staring at Jake.

This was, he decided, an even deeper ring of hell than holding hands while eating. No man should be expected to use a urinal at the same time as his boyfriend – especially when he didn't actually have to go to the bathroom at all.

He could go in the stall, but then he'd be  _that guy_  who had to use the stall to piss, and that would carry its own implications. But he'd told Jake he had to use the bathroom, and if he didn't, then Jake would know he was lying, and then...

They continued staring. Jake hadn't said a word.

The toilet in the stall flushed, and an older man hobbled out. He squinted at them both on the way to the sink, but said nothing as he washed his hands. They both remained silent and motionless as he washed his hands, dried them on a paper towel, wiped his glasses on his sweater, held his glasses up to the light for further inspection, wiped them again, checked them again, slid them back on.

It was a painfully long time before he shot them a parting look of scrutiny and exited the bathroom.

Well, fuck. Now Carter really didn't have an excuse.

"I, uh, I actually-"

He didn't get to say anything further because Jake had him pressed against the wall, lips devouring Carter's as he grabbed Carter's wrists and pinned them up beside his head. It would have been hellishly hot if Carter weren't acutely aware that they were in the middle of an extremely public restroom that professed to be for  _Cowboys Only_. He didn't have a history of bathroom hookups to fall back on, but he was fairly sure it was supposed to be a little more confidential than this.

The only thing worse than being outed with your boyfriend by his favorite hockey team would be getting outed with your boyfriend by his favorite hockey team while having sex in a public restroom to the soundtrack of Kenny Chesney.

Had he been throwing out some sort of bathroom hookup signals? He couldn't exactly renege on them now, even if he didn't know what they were, unless he wanted to go use a urinal in front of his boyfriend as "proof."

"Do you only like your PDA if it qualifies as exhibitionism?" Carter gasped between kisses, breath hitching as Jake started mouthing at his neck and skimming his hand toward Carter's belt.

"This is what you wanted," Jake said, except he didn't really sound like he believed it. That was good, because Carter absolutely didn't believe it. He was starting to think that maybe neither of them wanted it, so he wasn't really sure why he was palming Jake's ass encouragingly.

"Uh..."

Jake hummed, nudging his knee between Carter's thighs, and normally this would be  _so fucking good_  except the music had just switched over to Rascal Flatts, and Carter just could not have sex to a Rascal Flatts song in a public restroom. His sense of decency could only take so much damage.

"You know what, I've changed my mind," he said, making up his mind for the first time. Not that he could tell Jake that, evidently. "Maybe we should take this back to your place."

If Jake hadn't been so ardent a moment ago Carter would swear he was relieved, given how quickly he sprung away. "Yeah. Let's, uh, let's just get our food to go."

That was a plan Carter could more than support, because it fulfilled his original goals, and also, he was getting sex out of it.

He didn't fail to notice that Jake led him back to the dining room with a guiding hand on his wrist, even if his eyes were still scanning the room for the Canucks.

It was all good, in the end. They made it out of the restaurant unscathed, and when they got back to Jake's place, Jake gave him that sign of mutual affection he'd been promising, multiple times.

Carter pretty much slept through the rest of the trip until he had to catch his flight home, but it was worth it, when he had Jake next to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably two more chapters I'm thinking. Also this chapter takes place like, this week! \o/ (and for scheduling's sake pretends that the Sabres Skills Competition wasn't on Sunday which is a shame because Carter rocked it)

The rumors of Jake's romantic life only continued to spread when it got out that he'd cleared it with the front office staff not to return home with the team after their game in Toronto in early January. The Canucks had the next three days off before they were expected back for practice, and with Carter saying he would be home in Buffalo during that time, it really only made sense to just get a flight straight from Toronto to Buffalo instead of going all the way back to Vancouver with the team.

Of course, once his teammates learned about it, it was the only thing that anyone wanted to talk about. Jake's "paramour," so named by the boys because he refused to give a hint about Carter's name or gender and also because the boys were idiots, was already their favorite topic of conversation since they'd learned that Jake was seeing someone. Normally nobody cared nearly so much about who Jake dated, but once they saw it as a  _secret_ , they were desperate to know.

Not for the first time in his life, Jake considered that hockey players really had far more in common with six year olds than previously suspected.

For the most part he was able to ignore their good-natured ribbing and attempts to peer over his shoulder when he was looking at his phone. But once one of the coaches let slip that Jake was heading to Buffalo and not Vancouver after the game against the Leafs, it didn't take long for some of the smarter souls to put it together.

"Marky's love interest is in Buffalo!"

"Oh my God, Jakey, is it true? You're dating someone from Buffalo?"

"How would you even meet someone from Buffalo? Unless you met them in Sweden?"

"Why the fuck would a Swedish person move to Buffalo?"

Tim held up a hand. "I moved to Buffalo."

The amount of eye rolling in that dressing room was palpable.

Stech waved a hand dismissively. "You're not Swedish, you don't count. You had to move for work...unless Marky's paramour moved for work too?"

The half of the dressing room that was fascinated with the saga of Jake's romantic life turned to stare at him, searching for a confirmation.

Jake smiled serenely. "I just really like Buffalo wings."

He was getting better at catching balls of used tape when they were thrown at him. Goalie reflexes, after all.

In a strange coincidence, or perhaps not given their hectic schedules, Carter was actually just flying back into Buffalo later tonight – late enough, he insisted, that he absolutely couldn't ask Jake to hang out in the airport waiting for him to arrive.

"Dude, just go to my place, I'll leave you a key," he'd said.

Jake had made a point of raising his eyebrows to make sure Carter saw. "This early in the relationship?"

He had the feeling that if Carter could have thrown a ball of tape through a camera, he'd have been trying it. Most people did.

"Dude, don't make it weird. It's just practical. Besides, if I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have asked you to visit in the first place."

And that was...Jake wasn't sure what it was, but it made his chest feel fluttery and light.

It was pride, maybe, that Carter placed so much trust in him. But more than that, it was something further than fond, that same feeling he got every time Carter did something that reaffirmed that what they had was something more than a convoluted international booty call.

Jake let Carter talk him into taking a cab to his place. He'd left a key stuck to the bottom of the electricity meter on the side of his house, allowing Jake to let himself in.

"What, no fake rock?" Jake had teased.

"Fake rock is amateur hour. My dad nailed his spare key to a tree in the yard. You had to climb the tree to get it down if you wanted to get into the house."

"And your mother put up with that?"

Carter had looked shifty at that. "She put one in a flower pot on the porch. He doesn't know about it. She just lets him climb the tree."

It made a strange sort of sense that two people like that would have produced a guy like Carter.

Carter's house looked different than when he'd seen it last, though maybe that was because he hadn't actually seen most of the house at all before. Their goal hadn't exactly been for Jake to get the full tour the last time he'd been here.

But now, Carter had left him with strict instructions to settle in and make himself comfortable, so Jake took some time to poke around. He figured it was allowed; Carter had no issues letting Jake into his house unattended, after all, and besides, Jake had no reservations about having Carter in his own space.

It was something that normal couples would have done a long time ago.

So after setting his shoes neatly on the rack by the door and hanging up his coat, Jake's first stop was to take his bags upstairs. He actually hadn't really remembered what this part of the house looked like, which would make sense because he'd been a little more focused on pressing Carter up against every available flat surface than he'd been in taking stock of his surroundings.

But now he could confirm that yes, Carter did have a real adult house. He poked his head in a few doors upstairs, finding a full bathroom and two guest bedrooms that were nicely furnished for a guy who lived alone and had moved in less than a year ago. The master bedroom, at least, he was familiar with, but he only stopped there long enough to drop off his things and change out of the suit he'd been traveling in to a t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

Then Jake padded downstairs to check out the rest of the house, flipping on lights as he went. The kitchen was bigger than he'd remembered, or maybe it just looked that way with the lights all turned on properly. There was still something he'd liked, though, about the sight of Carter silhouetted by the dim light from over the stove, the rest of the room shrouded in soft-edged shadows. It gave the space a warm and lived-in look, like Carter was just sending him off to work on a cold winter morning before the sun came up.

To be honest, Carter's whole house had that look. The sectional sofa in the living room looked worn and weathered and more than a little inviting, and the tables were covered in forgotten books and papers, framed photos of Carter and what must have been his family at Christmas, on fishing trips. There was a small home office covered in more of the same pictures, with a few cardboard boxes stacked up against one wall, the only concession to his recent move. The desk was large and looked to be real wood, scuffed and scarred, and Jake had to wonder where he'd inherited it from, and if he'd been hauling it around with him in his travels. It looked like the sort of thing that stayed in a family, the people now sitting behind the desk the ones that had hid under it during hide and seek as children. Furniture like that had history that told a story.

Jake's condo looked like an IKEA set geared towards single men in their twenties. To be fair, he probably really had been their target demographic. Being a Swedish stereotype just added insult to injury.

What made it worse was that while Jake had no real feelings either way about his own place, he could already feel himself growing attached to the space that Carter had made for himself. He could imagine himself here, the cold mornings huddled over coffee and the warm evenings wrapped up on the couch, perching on the edge of Carter's desk to bother him as he worked and grabbing his hand to pull him up the familiar path of the stairs.

He could imagine it, and that was a dangerous thing when their relationship was already so tenuous by nature.

Jake told himself that he wasn't going to do something embarrassingly cliché like falling asleep on the sofa while trying to wait up for Carter. The next thing he knew, a gentle hand on his shoulder was prodding him awake, and he was blinking up at Carter's smiling face.

"Fuck," Jake mumbled.

Carter lightly tapped the side of his face, the same way Jake always mimicked to him by tapping his phone. "I think that's my line, sport, and also not right now. If we don't haul our asses upstairs right now I'm just going to lie on top of you and go to sleep."

It wasn't a horrible idea. Jake eyed the length of the couch in consideration. It was wide enough, if Carter was spooned up against him, and Jake could even stretch out without his legs hanging off the end, a sure sign that the couch was a keeper...

He startled when Carter prodded his face not nearly as gently as before. "Hey, that's not a suggestion. As tempting as it sounds my back is going to hate me for it and yours probably will too. C'mon, upstairs."

Jake groaned and dragged himself up into a sitting position. "What, no kiss?"

"Not in that shirt."

It took Jake's brain a moment to catch up to his ears, and once the words finally percolated, his head snapped down to look at his shirt fast enough he nearly pulled a muscle in his neck.

He hadn't even thought about how much team apparel was in his bags when he'd gotten changed. Thankfully by some stroke of luck he'd grabbed a Canucks shirt that didn't have his name or number on it, but he knew his bag contained more than a few that did. Not that it was impossible for fans to have numbers put on their clothing, but player clothing was usually numbered for practicality over aesthetic, what with twenty-something guys all sharing a dressing room and wearing the same five shirts. He didn't need Carter asking any undue questions about his "favorite player" or something like that.

Thankfully Carter seemed just as exhausted and punch-drunk as him, because he didn't question it further. He held out a hand and helped Jake get to his feet. It was only when Jake was looking down at him that he realized that Carter was actually dressed very nicely for someone who just got off a late-night flight.

"You look good."

"Thanks. I feel the way you look."

Jake snorted and put a hand on Carter's hip, drawing him closer. "Sleepy and very handsome?"

He could feel the shape of Carter's smile against his lips. "Got it in one."

Jake did get his kiss, slow and lazy and sweet. He would have liked to turn it into something more, but he couldn't tell if one or the both of them was swaying dangerously.

"Ugh." Carter clutched at his shoulders, more to hold himself up than to keep Jake close. "Bed. I'm too out of it for this."

A vague suggestion about something that Carter could be  _in_  skipped through the edges of Jake's consciousness, but he dismissed it out of hand. That was more Carter's forte anyway.

The trip upstairs to bed involved a lot of balancing against walls, and also having to stop and turn off all of the lights that Jake had left on.

"You planning on paying the electric bill this month, buttercup?" Carter grumbled, steering Jake ahead of him towards the stairs with a firm hand pressed to his back.

It said something about how tired Jake was, because it wasn't until they were in Carter's room and Jake was lying in bed blatantly eyeing Carter as he undressed that he mumbled, "I want a better nickname."

Carter did that little huffy laugh that meant he was rolling his eyes and pulled a soft-looking black t-shirt over his head, making his hair fluffy and disheveled when his head emerged again. Jake settled back against the pillows, eyes slipping shut in lazy contentment.

"I'm serious. Buttercup isn't good enough."

"That's because it was sarcastic, kitten." Carter didn't even look at him as he neatly folded his suit over a hanger and took it to his closet. It was a shame, because Jake was pretty sure that the expression he was making was pretty great.

"That's even worse."

He couldn't see Carter's face, but he could hear his smile. "I don't know, I think I like that one."

Jake would have told him how horrible he was, but then Carter coming over and crawling into bed with him, holding himself up on his hands and knees over Jake, their faces inches apart, and despite all of his protests otherwise Jake's dick was giving serious consideration to the situation.

Even exhausted and disoriented without sleep, Carter was the best thing Jake had seen in weeks. He wanted to kiss the crow's feet at the corners of his blue, blue eyes, bury his face in the scruff along Carter's jaw. God, just having Carter here in front of him felt so good, the high of a well-earned win and the anticipation of the playoffs all rolled into a warm blanket of familiarity and contentment. He'd never connected with someone like this before, this sense of utter understanding between them. In all of his previous relationships it took Jake months to get to this point, past the performative nervousness of getting to know each other and trying to put forth a good representation of himself.

He'd never had that with Carter. It was like they'd walked straight into the comfortable part of a relationship where they didn't need that anymore. There was no way to put into words how he felt so viscerally  _known_  by Carter, especially when any bored bystander could point out that it was hard to be truly known by someone who wasn't aware of a huge part of your identity.

But that was part of what Jake loved about their relationship: Carter knew  _him_ , the real him, and he liked Jake just for that. Hockey was secondary to Jake, and that was something of a novelty. He wasn't Carter's hockey player boyfriend, squeezing in a visit between games.

Here, staring up at Carter in the warm glow of late night lamplight, Jake was just  _Carter's_.

Right now, that was the only identity he wanted to have.

The edges of Carter's lips had an inquisitive upturn to them, and Jake could feel the bed tilting under him as Carter shifted his weight to one hand. With the other he gently patted the side of Jake's face the way he had earlier, this time letting it linger. Jake could feel Carter's thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. The urge to frame this moment and hide it away was sharp and sweet.

"You're thinking a lot of big thoughts there, kitten."

Jake couldn't hold back his noise of disgust, shaking his head and pressing further into Carter's hand.

"Don't ruin it," he groaned, closing his eyes tight against Carter's smirk.

He let out a soft  _oof_  when Carter's weight dropped down onto him. Carter was utterly unbothered, clearly, seeing as he had no issues squirming around until he got himself comfortable. Jake was pretty sure that they weighed a similar amount despite the six inch height difference, Carter's body denser and muscle more compact than his own, and having Carter drop his full weight on him by all means should have been uncomfortable.

But Carter was lying on his chest with his chin propped on one flattened hand, his other hand curling over the collar of Jake's t-shirt, fingers trailing lazy paths over his clavicle, and Jake felt nothing but content.

He rested one hand over the curve of Carter's waist to keep him secure, just grazing the swell of his ass. With the other he caught Carter's hand on his chest. Carter was watching with lazy interest as Jake brushed a kiss over his knuckles.

"I missed you," Jake said, the words never enough to express how flayed open and vulnerable he felt in that moment.

And yet just like the last time Carter himself had uttered those words, Carter's smile was open and uncomplicated. "I know. Me too."

There were so many more things that they could say, about the distance, about how hard it was to go so long without seeing each other through more than a screen. Jake could say something about his work, give a reason for their separation, explain that last missing part of himself so that nobody could ever claim that he didn't give their relationship everything he had.

But the glow of the room was warm and so was Carter, and Jake didn't want to complicate such an easy moment with truths it didn't need right now.

He slid his hand up Carter's back to cradle the back of his head, pulled him down for a kiss, and turned off the light.  
  
~~~

Carter didn't really know when he fell asleep, but he certainly knew when he woke up.

It was a slow thing at first, pleasant warmth settled deep into his bones like the ache of a good workout. After sleeping the sleep of the chronically exhausted his body felt comfortably heavy, and it took all of his energy just to lazily roll his hips.

 _That_  part woke him up, because it was followed by lips sucking long and sweet at the head of his dick, and Carter's eyes shot open when he gasped.

Jake was settled firmly between his thighs, Carter's flannel pants pulled down just enough so that Jake had access to his cock, and  _fuck_ , he was good at that access. He smirked up at Carter as he kissed the tip of his dick again, his other hand tugging gently at Carter's balls. Carter realized with a jolt that he was achingly hard, his dick flushed and straining red, and he must have been truly fucking exhausted not to have woken up earlier when he was already this close.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, flopping back against the pillows and throwing an arm over his eyes. On second thought, he moved his arm just enough so that he could squint down at Jake, who was definitely smirking around his cock, and that visual was almost enough to make him have to cover his eyes again. "Babe, you're gonna wake me up by killing me."

Jake doing his stupid shaking silent laugh thing  _while sucking Carter off_  actually just made things much, much worse. The warmth in Carter's core was feeling tight, and there was no way he was going to last much longer, even if his brain had only just really kicked online to enjoy it.

Out of courtesy he reached down to run a hand over Jake's hair. "Sorry to be a disappointment, but I'm not going to last much longer."

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Jake's eyes lit up and he jacked Carter's cock a little more firmly.

"That's the plan," he said before taking Carter back into his mouth and pressing  _down_ , his lips brushing against his hand and his tongue working the underside of his dick.

Even with his own warning Carter wasn't ready for his orgasm to hit him, gasping like he'd taken a punch to the gut as that steady warmth sharpened to fire-bright sparks, sweeping over him in a trembling inferno and leaving him boneless and liquid. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but they remained resolutely trained on Jake as he worked Carter through it, swallowing without hesitation, and if Carter wasn't feeling all of his thirty-three years right now that would probably be enough to get him going again.

He groaned and finally let his eyes fall closed. When he waved a hand blindly in Jake's direction, trying to gesture him to come up the bed, he felt Jake grab it in his own hand and press a kiss to Carter's palm. God, he was so predictably sappy, and Carter was so stupidly gone over him.

"Get up here," he grumbled, still refusing to open his eyes. He could feel the bed shift as Jake complied, first pulling Carter's pants back up for him like a true gentleman, followed by Jake pressing a kiss to his lips.

The kiss definitely tasted like cum, and Carter couldn't find it in himself to be the slightest bit grossed out. He had no leg to stand on seeing as he'd contributed to that, after all, and also, he felt like maybe he didn't have legs anymore.

"Good morning," he heard Jake say, followed by a hand on his cheek. It was sweetly reminiscent of last night, and that was what got Carter to finally open his eyes.

He still had that little smirk that made his eyes sparkle, and he looked so fucking cute that Carter wouldn't mind if he couldn't move anymore, as long as Jake was looking at him like that.

"I think you sucked out my ability to move," he said, and he felt even warmer feeling Jake's body tremble, laughter buried against Carter's neck.

"That'd be a real shame." Jake pressed a soft kiss behind Carter's ear.

"It would, because I feel like I'm getting a reputation for being a pillow princess here, and I definitely don't deserve that."

The snorting sound that Jake made should never have been attractive, and yet Carter was still hopelessly endeared.

"I don't know,  _ekorre_ ," Jake hummed, "If the pillow fits..."

It took a truly herculean effort to push a guy as big as Jake off of him, especially with how wrung-out and loose he felt. In the end Jake really just rolled off of Carter on his own, giving him a bemused smile as he did. But he got with the picture quick enough when Carter flopped on top of him with a groan, sliding a firm palm under his shirt and up towards his nipples.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Jake asked, still wearing that stupid smirk.

Carter nipped the hinge of his jaw. "Shut up, I'm proving you wrong."

For all of his chirping, Jake was more than happy to lay back and be proved wrong for a good long time.

~~~

Carter wasn't as dedicated to a sightseeing schedule as Jake was, so he was more than happy for Jake's first day in Buffalo to be a lazy one spent largely in bed. It was cold and windy outside, and not really a day that Carter would pick out for giving a tour of the city, given that a windy day in the suburbs meant that downtown it would feel like being stabbed in the face with icicles. Carter loved Buffalo even after just a few months there, but coming from years of playing in St. Louis and Nashville, he wasn't used to real winters anymore. His family back in Thunder Bay took great pride in mocking him for it.

It wasn't a bad idea to spend the day at home. Eventually they went downstairs to forage for food, and Jake harassed Carter as he cooked omelets just the way he had their first time together, hugging him from behind and kissing his neck and stealing ingredients and generally making a nuisance of himself until Carter put him on toast duty. They ate on the couch, Jake stretched out on the lounge portion and Carter propped up facing him, his legs stretched just enough to tuck his toes under Jake's thigh. Jake put on some show about a wildlife preserve for wolves, and the whole day was soft and relaxed and sickeningly domestic in a way Carter had only dreamed of.

He'd wanted something that felt like it could be stable and healthy and lasting, and even after a few short months spent mostly apart, this felt like it could be what he was looking for. But of course, he could never know that unless they were living together long enough to get on each other's nerves and know that they still liked each other afterwards, and  _that_  would never happen unless or until Carter came clean about his career.

And also convinced Jake to move to Buffalo, but honestly, the former sounded more difficult right now.

At this point he would have been perfectly happy to tell Jake about his job, because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Jake wouldn't think any differently of him for being a hockey player with a certain level of recognition to his name. The issue was that he'd waited so long to actually  _tell_  Jake that it felt like an impossibly large task that had a great chance of backfiring stupendously. Carter hadn't exactly been lying about his life, but a lie of omission was usually only seen as an improvement by the lying party.

Whatever. He'd do it quick, like ripping off a band-aid, and then they could discuss what that meant for their relationship.

Of course, then Jake had to look over at him with those eyes and that fucking smile, laughing at something Carter had missed on the television, and having a big reveal about his identity fell to the backburner in favor of kissing that smile off of Jake's face.

Carter had practice tomorrow morning. He could explain everything then.

Except Carter didn't explain a damn thing, because he was a fucking weenie.

"I just have to run into the office for a few hours," he told Jake, kissing him briefly and barely giving him a chance to wake up before he ran off to the shower.

It wasn't a  _lie_. The arena had offices, after all, and there was a distinct possibility that Carter might be called into one after practice.

He wasn't, but it was possible.

The boys could clearly tell he was antsy to leave, and so they made a point of being as incredibly obnoxious as was physically possible while also keeping him from leaving. Which was, naturally, even more obnoxious.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Bogo stood in front of him with his arms crossed. He was watching with one eyebrow raised while Carter hastily crammed his feet into his shoes. Normally Carter would have made a crack about the amount of effort Bogo would have to put into pulling that expression off, but right now he was too busy thinking about how he'd left Jake sleepy and warm in his bed.

Carter didn't have to reply, because Nate said for him, "Hey, maybe Hutts has a life to get back to!"

Then he frowned. "Since when do you have a life?"

Carter finished pulling on his shoes and double-checked his pockets for his wallet and phone. "My life is a myriad of wondrous mysteries you could never hope to solve."

Of course they were drawing attention now, so the other guys were all peering over with interest.

"A life that doesn't include us?" Sam gasped, putting a hand over his heart. "That's not even a life worth living."

"Is that how you comfort yourself about being single?" Carter chirped.

He was hoping the reaction that got from the team would be enough to distract them onto harassing Sam, but despite the chorus of jeers and shoves in Sam's direction, Bogo was still looming over him.

"Carter," he drawled, and the fact that he used Carter's first name was warning enough, "Are you  _seeing someone_?"

For just a moment, you could hear a pin drop. Or maybe that was just Carter's hopes of getting home to Jake early.

And then...

"Carter's  _dating someone_? Why weren't we told?"

"I didn't know Hutts knew how to date."

"Hutts are you old enough to date?"

"I think you mean young enough, he's gonna throw out his hip."

"Whoo, get it Hutts!"

At least  _some_  of them were supportive.

"My personal life is none of your business," he said primly, only to be met with a chorus of boos.

"It's not really dating if they haven't met the team!" Caber protested.

Carter smiled serenely. "Who said I was dating anybody?"

The best way to shut them up was to not give them anything to go from. To their credit, the boys were good spirited about it. Jeff came over and told him congratulations, and Pommer and Kyle both patted him on the shoulder. Bogo finally let Carter go after ruining his hair by scrubbing his hand over it and telling him that he'd get it out of him eventually.

Carter had finally escaped on his way to the parking lot when someone bumped up against his side. When he looked, Linus was keeping pace with him, smiling secretively.

"So are you actually seeing someone?" he asked.

Carter smirked. "Oh, definitely."

Maybe it was because goalies were always on a slightly different wavelength than everyone else, or maybe it was just because Linus and Carter were friends, but he had a feeling he could trust Linus more than the rest of those gossips.

Linus smiled widely, showing his teeth, and bumped their arms again as they reached their cars. "Good for you. See you tomorrow?" he asked, even though they both knew they had morning skate.

"Yeah, see you."

The drive home was largely forgettable, particularly when all of Carter’s thoughts were occupied with coming home to Jake.

God, that was something he wished he could get used to.

There weren't words to describe what it was like to come home and find Jake sprawled on his couch, soft and relaxed in sleep. Carter had never been more tempted in his life to curl up against someone's chest and spend the night on the couch.

He also had never really been with someone so much bigger than him that he could curl up against them, and let it be known, he wasn't minding that change of pace at all.

It was so good, to know that there would be someone looking forward to seeing him when he got home. He'd been in that house for months now, and this was the first time it really felt lived-in.

Fuck, he had to just nut up and tell Jake the truth. All of the serious life conversations could come after that.

Carter was rehearsing what he planned to say even as he walked through the door, and maybe that involved mumbling to himself a little bit, but he was the only one there to hear it.

"Hey, I'm back!" he called out. Wasn't that a novel experience, actually having someone to call out to?

"Up here!" Jake responded from the bedroom.

Carter smirked and took the stairs two at a time.

Jake was sitting on Carter's bed messing around with a tablet, wearing a different pair of sweats and a Tre Kronor shirt that wouldn't have been out of place in Linus's wardrobe. How had he ended up surrounded by so many Scandinavians?

He was about to give Jake shit for it, just because he could, when he noticed the sweatshirt that was left spread over the bed next to Jake, where he definitely hadn't left it. Jake must have found it while he was wandering around.

Jake looked up, followed his gaze, and smirked.

"You want to explain that one?"

He nodded to the sweatshirt, advertising the Tre' White Goalie Academy, leftover from the video Carter and Linus had done with Tre' White from the Bills. The Sabres had been promoting the hell out of it and the fans had been spreading it all over social media.

Well, that was that then. The secret was out.

To be honest, it was a wonder that Jake hadn't just found Carter's actual NHL gear, but he supposed that most of his memorabilia from his other teams was still in boxes, and the rest of his Sabres apparel was tucked away in drawers. Jake may have been a little nosy, but he wasn't the type to dig through drawers without permission. Closets were another game, clearly.

Well, at least he was smiling, so he clearly was taking the news pretty well. Then again, it really wasn't the end of the world to trip over the fact that your boyfriend was a professional goaltender, and there was no reason for Carter to have been getting so freaked out.

He shrugged helplessly, feeling like a weight was off his shoulders. Jake's smile was showing his dimples, and Carter smiled back. It was so freeing to not have to worry about hiding such a big part of himself anymore.

"Yeah, they thought it would be funny to give those to us," he said. "It was a lot of fun, actually."

"Oh yeah?" Jake got off the bed, stretching slowly clearly for the purposes of showing off. It was working, for sure, Carter could watch that all day, but it was still extraneous to the conversation at hand.

"I'm pretty good at it," Carter agreed, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat. It was true; the PR team called him a one-take wonder because they never had to keep reshooting him the way they did certain other people who happened to be Bogo.

Jake came over and wrapped his arms around Carter's waist, sliding his large palms down to cup Carter's ass. Oh, fuck, it was going to be one of those sorts of days, wasn't it?

Carter fucking loved having a boyfriend.

"That's awesome," Jake said, ducking their heads closer. "How long have you played goalie?"

Not the exact question Carter expected, but he could roll with it. "Uh, since I was a kid. Y'know, you're the slow skater, the miniature pylon out there, they dump you in the net because you're good at taking up space. I guess I just got really good at taking up space."

Jake's eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Carter's heart swooped in his chest.

"I'm sure you do a great job at taking up space," Jake said. "The kids must love you."

Well, Carter was still building his new following with the Buffalo fan base, but most of the kids he'd met were pretty excited to see him.

"Yeah, they're great."

Jake was mouthing along his neck now, and Carter was rapidly losing the ability to string sentences together.

"Of course, you're out of town for work constantly and you still find time to help kids," Jake teased.

"Well, yeah, I help when I can."

Carter's words bit off into a gasp as Jake nipped at his earlobe.

"I'm sure the kids are lucky to have you as a coach," Jake murmured in his ear.

"It's...huh?"

It was embarrassing how badly Carter didn't want to move away from Jake's ministrations, but he'd clearly lost the thread of the conversation here, and his fucking brain wouldn't just let him take the free pass and get laid without getting to the bottom of this.

Jake just smiled, clearly not reading Carter's confusion. "Coaching kids to play goalie." He gestured at the sweatshirt, still thrown over Carter's bed. "It's pretty cool that there's a program just for helping kids become goalies, actually. I'm impressed."

What really fucking sucked was that Carter couldn't even luxuriate in Jake's praise anymore, not when he was trying to look over at the sweatshirt again to see if he'd missed anything.

Tre' White Goalie Academy, check. Logo of what was clearly a football player in goalie pads, also check.

Carter met Jake's eyes again, and had a sinking feeling that they were so far on separate pages that they weren't even reading from the same book.

"Oh yeah," he murmured faintly, "Coaching kids..."

Maybe Jake really didn't know what football gear looked like? Or follow the NFL? He  _was_  Swedish, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

It was just...really fucking disappointing, and not just because Carter was still going to have to do the job of explaining things for himself.

For just a moment, everything had been perfect. Now, he was right back to where he'd been before.

It was possible that Carter wasn't the best actor that he liked to think he was, because Jake clearly noticed his expression change. He leaned back and brought one hand up to cup Carter's face.

"Hey, what's wrong,  _ekorre_?"

"Nothing, sweet pea," Carter sighed. He slumped into Jake's arms, pressing his cheek to Jake's chest. "Just tired."

Jake stroked a hand through Carter's hair, even as he made a noise of discontent. "I'm vetoing that one too."

"It's a good one," Carter countered drowsily, closing his eyes. He'd told himself he wasn't going to sleep away any more of his time with Jake, but he suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. A short nap might not be so bad.

He could hear the smile in Jake's voice as a kiss was dropped to the top of Carter's head. "Keep trying,  _ekorre_. You need a nap?"

"Just a little one."

Just enough to regroup. Just enough to figure out how he was going to explain to Jake what football was, and who the Buffalo Bills were, and why Carter would film a video with the Bills because also he was a professional hockey player.

Definitely. As soon as he woke up. He had time.

He couldn't possibly be lying to Jake if he was also lying to himself, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very relevant film accompaniments: the [Tre' White Goalie Academy](https://www.buffalobills.com/video/tre-white-goalie-academy) featuring our friend Carter Sutton (and [blooper reel](https://www.buffalobills.com/video/tre-white-goalie-academy-bloopers), where we learn that Carter is a one-take wonder, which he already knows), and [Carter and Zach Bogosian's take on Christmas Vacation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSxgsVfs2uk), for which Carter deserves an award, and its [outtakes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgNnEV8ts7w), where we find that Carter is the glue holding any film production together.
> 
> And of course, [the sweatshirt](https://twitter.com/BuffaloSabres/status/1073412823923990529).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really did not turn out the way I'd planned it to. It's also not as long as the others and not very funny, but after I scrapped like three different ideas for how this scene could go, this is the way it wanted to be.
> 
> One more chapter after this. Once again, written while half-asleep, like all my best writing. For what it's worth, this takes place at this coming Friday's game where the Sabres play in Vancouver (1/18/19). Therefore yay for vague-writing!

So Carter didn't actually tell Jake about his job yet. Whatever. That was okay. He had a new foolproof plan to tell Jake who he was and sweep him off his feet all in one move.

It was perfect: in just a week and a half, Buffalo would be rounding out a Canadian road trip with a game in Vancouver, after which the team would have ten days between games for their bye week and the All-Star Game. Considering half the goalies in the league would have to contract the mumps and swine flu and maybe hep C before Carter would get the call for the All-Star Game, it was a safe bet that he would have over a week of consecutive days-off to spend uninterrupted with Jake wherever the hell they wanted to go.

"So what do you think?" he asked Jake over breakfast. Jake was due to fly back to Vancouver tonight; Carter was dropping him at the airport on the way to the game.

Jake took extra time peeling an orange as he considered it. Carter would have believed that his solemn contemplation was genuine, but he was smiling a little down at the orange as he did it and definitely trying to play footsie under the table. It was funny how into it Jake seemed to be now, looking back at how weird he'd been about their legs touching at the restaurant back in Vancouver.

"C'mon," Carter groused, kicking Jake's ankle none-too-gently.

The orange peeling became positively glacial, except even glaciers would have hurried it up by now.

Maybe he'd been reading things wrong.

Carter bit his lip and looked away, sliding his feet back so they were tucked under his chair. "It's okay to say no. I understand if it's too fast. A week is a long time. Maybe we could just have dinner when I'm in town for work? And then I'll-"

"Hold up." Jake reached over the table and grabbed one of Carter's hands. "You promised me  _at least_  a week, you don't get to take it back before I even say yes."

It was a little pathetic how quickly that boosted Carter's mood. "You want to say yes?"

Jake squeezed his hand, while making a point of rolling his eyes in what was clearly a mockery of how often Carter did it, and fuck it, he couldn't even bother to be offended. "I  _am_ saying yes, of course I'm saying yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, because we've known each other for all of two months and I just suggested we go on vacation together?"

Saying it out loud actually sounded even worse than in his head.

But Jake didn't seem bothered at all. "So? Hasn't stopped us yet."

He pulled out his phone with the hand that wasn't still holding onto Carter's, squinting down at what was probably his schedule.

"I have a few work things through the 23rd, but the good thing is that I'll be home for all of them. But after that I'm off for the rest of the month."

Carter nodded slowly, trying to picture how their schedules overlapped. "So not a whole lot of time to go somewhere..."

"But you can come stay with me in Vancouver. A few days where neither of us have to work and we're in the same place? It's a miracle."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Carter said. But he stretched out his leg until he could tap his foot against Jake's ankle again, softer this time.

Maybe if he spent more consistent time around Jake, his smile would stop looking like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day.

(He hoped it never did.)

"You've got ten days to start believing it." Jake brought Carter's hand up to kiss his palm, one of the many stupidly charming things that Jake casually did all the time to melt Carter's heart all over again. His scruff tickled against Carter's palm in the best way.

"I'll pencil you in my calendar."

"You better Sharpie marker me in your calendar, this is happening now, you promised me."

"Ooh, a Sharpie, do we want this to be that permanent?" Carter teased.

The tilt of Jake's smirk was entirely at odds with the slow, careful way he ran his thumb over Carter's knuckles.

"I could do with a bit of permanence."

And the way that Jake stared right into Carter's eyes as he spoke implied that he was speaking about a lot more than markers.

God, Carter had to come clean with him. Where else was he going to find a hot, funny guy who was fucking  _huge_ , actually into him, and appealed to all of his old man urges to settle down and nest?

Next week. He'd tell him next week, after the Sabres played the Canucks. And then they could start talking about permanence.

~~~

This time, Jake would more than openly admit that he was fussing with his apartment in preparation for Carter's visit. Because Carter was going to actually  _stay with him_ , for over a week, and Jake still couldn't wrap his head around it.

It sucked that their schedules didn't match up well enough for him to take Carter away somewhere warm, but spending time together in Vancouver again could only be good.

Living together for a few days made for a good dry run of how the rest of your relationship would work, after all.

Carter got into town on Thursday, but he had to stay in a hotel for his work function. They were going to meet up for dinner Thursday night, and then Friday evening after he finished with work, Carter was going to come stay at Jake's. It worked out well that Carter had to go to some sort of dinner meeting on Friday, because it coincided with Jake being tied up playing the Sabres.

His next game was a Sunday matinee against the Red Wings, but Jake planned to bring Carter to that one. He was going to tell him the truth about who he was, and hope Carter understood why he'd kept quiet about it. It was kind of funny that Carter actually taught goaltending to kids and didn't recognize Jake, but he figured that just because someone played the role for fun didn't mean they had a mental rolodex of every goaltender in the NHL.

He still wanted to know more about what Carter's career as a goalie had looked like, because there was no way that you decided to volunteer teaching kids how to play goalie without at least playing hockey through high school.

God, Carter would probably be stunned to learn who Jake was. In a good way, he hoped. He thought Carter might really like to see an NHL game in person, given how much he chirped Jake for his Canucks gear but never mentioned getting to see the Sabres play.

It was a shame Carter was working Friday night, or Jake would get him tickets to see his home team.

Carter met him at the restaurant on Thursday night, a local Italian place that was hopefully small enough for them not to draw too much attention. Jake didn't care about being out in the NHL, but he wanted to warn Carter of what he might be in for before he let them get photographed together doing something clearly romantic. He still didn't actually know what Carter's career was, or what the ramifications might be for him to suddenly get famous as the boyfriend of the then-first openly out player in the NHL. It was only fair for him to have some notice and let him decide if that was something he would be comfortable with.

Given how Carter came right up to him and kissed him on the cheek, no matter how brief or subdued, Jake thought it boded well for Carter being okay with their relationship going public.

"Not expecting any Canucks to show up this time?" Carter asked.

Jake was too caught up in the brightness of his smile for the words to register at first, but when they did, he could almost feel the blood rush from his face.

"I- I mean...so you  _know_..."

Carter huffed and rolled his eyes, still smiling. The look was familiar enough at this point that Jake let his shoulders start to relax, the tension easing out of his neck. Carter only rolled his eyes when he was being playful, and if he was feeling playful then he couldn't be that upset.

"Of course I know," Carter said. "You have so much Canucks gear, literally everybody knows your favorite team."

"Oh...my favorite team...yeah..."

Part of Jake wanted to feel relieved, but the other part was actually a little disappointed. This would all be a lot easier if Carter figured things out for himself. It was easier to react than to act, after all.

Carter just kept smiling, grabbing Jake's hand in his own. "I figured that's what got you so freaked the last time we went out together, when the Canucks showed up. Feeling a little star-struck to be around your favorite team. Lucky for you it's actually kind of cute."

He smirked, the dumb one that Jake liked to kiss off of his face, and Jake would have done so if he didn't feel like he was still ten steps behind in this conversation.

God, but it was exhausting just imagining how his teammates would react if they could hear this. He'd probably have to ask for a trade because he'd never get over the trauma of the boys knowing he was "star-struck" by the Vancouver Canucks.

Or of them just hearing about that whole escapade in the bathroom. Actually, the boys finding out he chased his boyfriend to the bathroom to hide from them and turned it into a misguided attempt at bathroom sex in the middle of a heavily trafficked public restroom at a fucking steakhouse would be far, far worse than them hearing that Carter thought he had some sort of hockey crush on the team.

This would all be so much easier to navigate once he just nutted up and told Carter the truth about who he was.

One more day, and then they could get past this.

For now, he did his best to corral his face into something close to a smile, which admittedly wasn't too hard when he had Carter right in front of him.

"I'm cute, huh?"

Carter scoffed and looked off towards the entrance of the restaurant, but he didn't let go of Jake's hand. Jake decided not to remark on the pink starting to grow over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He'd rather just enjoy it than risk Carter trying to hide his face.

"C'mon. I was promised food." Carter tugged at his hand, and Jake let himself be pulled towards the restaurant.

"So demanding,  _ekorre_ ," he chided.

Carter didn't miss a step. Without looking back he cheerfully agreed, "Yep, but you love it."

And the bitch of it was that Jake really did.

~~~

Carter had to admit that it felt a little disappointing to head back to his hotel room alone after dinner, even if it had been exactly what he'd planned with Jake ahead of time. The organization probably would have been pretty accepting if he came out to them, but that didn't change that curfews were curfews, and Carter couldn't be out all night banging his super hot Swedish boyfriend if he wanted to get the start for Friday's game.

Well, he could just save the banging for after the game. Then he'd have over a week to get fucked as many ways as he could think of and a few he was still dreaming up.

It was good to have goals.

He still felt the most ridiculous flutter in his chest when Jake was the one to send him a good morning text first because they were actually in the same time zone for once.

 _Good morning. Can't wait to see you tonight ;)_ , Jake sent, because he was corny and too cute for words and Carter definitely didn't deserve him.

He also added a picture of a squirrel, Carter assumed because he was also a bit of a freak.

" _Got_  me a freak like that," he muttered to himself, pleasantly surprised with his new realization.

"Got what?" Bogo dumped his collection of plates down on the table across from Carter. He certainly had all of the food groups represented, thoroughly, multiple times over. It would have been mildly impressive if Carter hadn't had the misfortune of seeing Bogo eat before.

Carter kicked him under the table, just because he could. "Got to get away from all this."

He waved a hand to encompass the picture of Zach and his exceptionally large breakfast.

Bogo snorted and pushed a bowl full of pineapple chunks in Carter's direction. "Please, you love all this. I'm the best wife you ever had."

After a moment of considering the bowl, Carter shrugged and grabbed his fork. It was an adequate offering.

"You have the best fashion sense of any woman I've ever married," Carter agreed.

Zach seemed far too pleased by that.

But not pleased enough to forget what he'd overheard. And at heart, Bogo really was a relentless gossip.

"So what is it that you've got?" He stole a piece of pineapple from the bowl he'd just gifted Carter. Maybe Carter should rethink who his favorite wife was.

He wrapped his arm around the bowl and pulled it closer to his chest. "These now, so stop trying to take them back."

Bogo kicked him under the table. "Hey, I provide for you, I deserve some of the fruits of my labors."

Naturally, he looked inordinately pleased with himself for that pun.

Carter was mildly relieved when Linus showed up, pulling out the chair next to him. His breakfast haul was notably smaller than Bogo's, especially when he picked up a cup of peach yogurt and slid it over to Carter. Carter wasn't sure what he'd done to apparently warrant some sort of tribute system, but he'd take it.

"Linus provides for me too, and he doesn't demand to know all of my secrets."

"So it is a secret!" Bogo snapped his fingers and pointed at him.

Linus smiled serenely. "There are no secrets in the goalie union."

He held out his fist, and Carter bumped it solidly with his own.

"So you can tell me what Hutts's big secret is," Bogo insisted.

Linus's expression continued to be cheerful and delightfully blank as he asked, "What secret?"

His acting skills were improving by the day. Carter was so proud of him.

Carter finished the pineapple in record time and slid the empty bowl back to Bogo. Picking up his yogurt cup, he ruffled Linus's hair and said, "I'm going to get ready for morning skate. I'll see you guys in a bit. Oh, also, Zach, I won't be coming back to Buffalo with the team because I have business to attend to out here. Don't worry about it."

It was so, so satisfying to walk away while listening to Bogo's gravelly squawking noises. "What? What kind of business?"

"Don't worry about it!" Carter called over his shoulder.

But once he was back in his hotel room he pulled out his phone again and sent a text to Jake.

 _See you tonight lovebug_.

_OMG Kitten was better!_

Carter smiled down at his phone and sent a few cat emojis.

_Remember you said that, honeybear._

He wouldn't keep things a secret from the boys much longer. Once he'd told Jake and they'd worked things out, then he'd let the rest of the guys in on his relationship. After all, there was no way he could convince Jake to move to Buffalo if Jake had to be some sort of dirty secret.

So it was settled. After tonight's game he'd come clean, and they'd move on with their lives, and hopefully progress their relationship.

Just had to win tonight's game first.

Easy-peasy.

~~~

The game started off so normally – well, as normal as anything in this bizarre hot and cold season they'd been playing.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. Carter had the start, which hadn't been a sure thing until morning skate, given how often he and Linus had been switching off in the net. But Phil had decided to trust in him, and Carter didn't plan on letting him down.

Warm-ups were fine. Carter usually got pretty zoned-out during warm-ups, unless he had a friend or someone on the other team who he wanted to talk to. The only guy he knew on the Canucks was DZ, and they were really more along the lines of "nod briefly to acknowledge each other" casual acquaintances than actual friends. So Carter stayed to himself for most of warm-ups, not really bothering to scope out the competition. It was probably for the best, seeing as if left unattended, his brain would just keep trying to identify which guys just barely avoided seeing him have bathroom sex at a steakhouse last month.

The only thing he really noticed was that Markström was freakishly tall, and he only noticed that because Markström's height made him impossible to ignore.

Oh, and he noticed the mask Markström wore, but only because the ears painted on to it creeped him the hell out.

"Don't you and all the Swedish guys get your masks painted by the same guy?" Carter asked Linus as they stretched together.

Linus casually dropped into a split. "Yeah, mostly it's all from Dave Gunnarsson."

"Well tell him to stop putting ears on Markström's masks, it's creepy as fuck."

Even as a goalie who had worked with other goalies for his entire career, Carter had to admit there was something a bit disconcerting about how Linus prostrated himself on the ice, legs splayed wide to stretch his hips, and looked back over his shoulder to ask Carter, "Creepier than the Minion?"

God, just looking at his flexibility made Carter’s joints creak in protest. He was getting so fucking old.

"Oh, buddy, it's way creepier than the Minion."

Carter would take any number of Minions before he'd accept human ears painted on a goalie mask. A guy had to have standards, after all.

Aside from being morally offended by his mask, Carter really didn't spare a thought to Jacob Markström. As much as the press would love to play up a rivalry between opposing goaltenders, the fact of the matter was that the way that Carter played had no bearing on the way that the goalie on the opposite end of the ice played, and vice versa. Carter didn't have to scope out the game of his opposing goaltender because his opposing goaltender presumably wasn't taking shots on his net.

It was in that manner that most goaltenders really didn't know each other that well unless they'd played in a tandem before. International team rosters were highly limited, and goaltending in major leagues had such a sharp bottleneck of talent that most goalies only ever "competed" against each other when they were fighting for roster spots on the same team. But goalies from different countries playing on opposing teams who had never met each other before?

There wasn't a single reason why Carter would bother concerning himself with Markström's play seeing as it had absolutely no impact on him.

Carter continued naively thinking that way until there were only ten minutes left in the third period.

And then shit got real.

It was a commercial break just like any other – in fact, just like the other one they'd had only five minutes prior. Carter skated up to the bench, lifted up his mask, and took his water and Gatorade from Linus when they were offered.

He was in the middle of squirting both in his mouth, letting some of them run back out as he spat on the ice – just like he always did – while listening to Linus talk about which part of the net Eriksson was favoring. And just by pure chance, by absolute happenstance, Carter happened to look up the ice towards the Canucks bench.

Markström was there in all of his freakishly tall glory. He had that awful mask pushed up just as Carter's was, lounging against the boards talking to the big kid Carter didn't recognize who was backing him up.

Carter's eyes would have just kept scanning the ice as they always did, aimlessly taking stock of his surroundings, if Markström hadn't turned in profile as he laughed at something the kid said.

He had a bit of scruff on his face, not quite enough to be a proper beard but way more than five o'clock shadow, and it glinted nearly red in the bright lights of the arena. His smile was toothy and white, visible even from down the ice. The curve of his jaw, the angle of his nose, the flash of bright, bright blue eyes...

"Oh, fuck me," Carter gurgled. Gatorade spilled out of his mouth, some running down his jersey and the rest ending up on the ice.

Linus was asking what was wrong, and Risto was looking over at them with a shrewd frown, trying to assess the state of his goaltenders, and Dahls was trying to hand Carter a towel to wipe his face off with, and Carter couldn't pay attention to any of that because he was too busy having a very public heart attack.

Because Jacob Markström had caught him staring and turned to look at Carter properly. And at first he frowned, probably taking in how Carter was blatantly staring at him. And then he squinted, the way one does when an opposing goaltender is clearly eyeing you up during a commercial break but you've never met him before in your life.

And then his eyes went wide and his face impossibly paler, as one does when one realizes that their long-distance boyfriend is the starting goaltender of the opposing NHL team.

"Hutts? Hutts, are you okay?" Linus touched Carter's shoulder, trying to draw him back.

Physically, Carter was more than okay, but on the other hand, he was pretty sure his brain was currently broadcasting static while the loudspeaker played some jazzy elevator music.

"I've fucked Jacob Markström," Carter breathed. Or not, because the way Linus – calm, happy Linus – yelped,  _"What?!"_  was more than enough to scare the breath right out of him.

"It's true." Carter's nodding picked up steam until he felt not unlike a really dysfunctional bobblehead. "I've fucked him. Many times. We had plans for fucking tonight. I've sucked his dick so many times, Marky. It's a very good dick."

Linus was reaching over the boards to try to pat at Carter's forehead. He even remembered to take his glove off first, which Carter definitely wouldn't have. Again he asked, "Are you okay?"

That was a great question, and Carter would have loved to answer it, but he didn't really have a good response to that question right about now. Not when Jacob Markström was still staring at him, looking like he was going to pass out any second now, and Jacob Markström, Vancouver Canucks starting goaltender, was turning out to be Jake, Carter's hot Swedish boyfriend who lived in Vancouver and had a lot of money and traveled a lot and had a job with weird hours and who didn't know Carter was a hockey player-

Who didn't know Carter was a hockey player.

Carter, a hockey player, who wasn't telling Jake who he was because he thought it was so nice to date someone who didn't know he was a hockey player.

Jake, who was Jacob Markström,  _a hockey player_.

"Oh fuck," Carter whispered. His mouth felt so dry, and yet he didn't think more Gatorade would help. "Linus. Linus, I think I've been dating Jacob Markström."

"You said that, but what does-"

"Linus? Linus, this is very important. Linus, what does  _ekorre_ mean?"

Linus tried to touch his forehead again to check his temperature. "It means squirrel. How is this importa-"

Carter flipped his mask back down, never once breaking eye contact with Jake from across the ice.

_Jacob Markström, NHL goaltender._

"Oh, it's on, kitten."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world went out and completely jossed my ending, because the night that the Sabres played the Canucks, Linus Ullmark and Thatcher Demko were in net. So my grand plans to use real life as the basis for ending this fic were ruined.
> 
> This is the end of the fic. It has pretty much negative amounts of conflict so I hope you weren't here for angst, because it's fluff and porn from here on out.
> 
> I want to thank everyone that's read, commented, and left kudos on this fic. The response to this fic has been far and away the most I've ever had for a hockey fic, and in such a short amount of time too. All for a rare pair I made up that I didn't expect more than five people to even click on. I can't thank you all enough, you've been wonderful. Thank you.

Jake had plans for Friday night. Those plans were pretty simple: he was going to beat the Sabres, go home to his amazingly hot boyfriend, have amazingly hot victory sex, and then the next morning he would tell his amazingly hot boyfriend that he was a professional hockey player.

And then have positive communication skills sex, presumably.

There was a slight wrinkle in that plan, starting with the fact that Carter's Friday evening work dinner seemed to consist of choking on Gatorade and nearly spitting it all over Linus Ullmark.

On the ice, during a commercial break at Rogers Arena, where Carter was because his work function was the game between the Canucks and the Sabres, because Carter was Carter  _Hutton_ , the de facto starting goaltender of the Buffalo Sabres.

In retrospect, they had been dating for long enough that Jake should have asked Carter for his last name a long, long time ago. That part was on him.

From a certain perspective this was actually good news, because at least Jake wasn't the only one with something to come clean about. Besides, who better to understand the stress of an NHL schedule or the pressures of being a gay professional hockey player than someone who was in the exact same position? Who could understand what it was like to be a goalie better than another goalie?

On the other hand, the tiny hypocritical part of Jake was a little bothered by the fact that Carter kept something so big from him.

Mostly Jake just wanted to talk to Carter. After the initial shock wore off, the first thing he wanted to do was go to him, explain himself. This was something that they could laugh about, definitely. And it wasn't like their relationship had to change – they would still have crazy schedules and live on opposite ends of a continent, but now they could be more open about coordinating their calendars.

All of Jake's fantasies of moving in together might be difficult, though.

So was talking to Carter, because no sooner had Jake processed what was going on than Carter was flipping his mask down over his face, snatching up his stick, and skating back to his crease. The ice crew had only just finished scraping the area and Carter already set about scuffing it up with his skates in quick, precise movements.

Jake's mouth went dry.

At nearly twenty-nine years old he'd thought he'd identified all of his kinks by now, but evidently there was always room to develop more.

He wished he'd paid more attention to Carter stretching before the game.

The last ten minutes of the game was a wash for Jake. It was honestly a miracle that he didn't allow a goal in that time, because he was far too distracted trying to watch Carter at the other end of the ice.

He'd never spent so much time watching another goaltender play in the middle of the game, not unless Jake was on the bench himself, but there was a newfound fascination in this instance because it was Carter,  _Jake's Carter_ , playing like it was sudden death overtime in game seven of the playoffs, and that was.

A lot.

Never before in his life had Jake had to experience what it was like to get hard while wearing a cup (painful, to be sure), but he'd also never been turned on by watching his boyfriend make save after beautiful highlight reel glove save.

He was learning new things about himself every day.

It was honestly a little disappointing that all of Carter's efforts weren't enough to change the score they'd had since Brock's goal early in the third: the Canucks won 4-3, and all Carter's acrobatics could do was keep the goal deficit from getting any bigger.

Jake was more than happy to take the win, and the hugs and helmet pats from his teammates that came with it, but he'd never experienced that simultaneous pang of loss as he watched Carter skate off the ice, mask still pulled down, chin tucked towards his chest.

One of the best and worst parts of being taller than most of his teammates was that Jake could see over their heads and watch as Ullmark put his arm around Carter's shoulders and tapped their heads together. As Jack Eichel gave Carter a more than friendly consolation pat on the ass.

Jake's eyes narrowed.

If anyone should be consoling Carter's ass in any way, it should be him.

Unless Carter didn't want him to. That stopped Jake short in his tracks as he skated off the ice, Thatcher bouncing off his back when he didn't realize Jake wasn't still moving.

He waved off Thatcher's concerns and started moving again, mind a thousand miles away or maybe just a few hundred yards in the visitor's dressing room.

What if Carter didn't want to stay together? What if he was mad at Jake for winning? Not that he could imagine someone like Carter holding a grudge over that – hockey was hockey, and guys won and lost games against friends and family all the time. Someone was always going to have to lose when they played each other. But what if Carter decided that the permanent distance in their relationship, now that it was out in the open, was too much to handle? What if he didn't want to stay with Jake knowing that they'd never have more than a few painfully brief meetings throughout the season and maybe some time together over the summer?

What if he decided that the hassle just wasn't worth it for someone with whom he'd spent less than two collective weeks in the same city?

"You're supposed to  _smile_ , Marky, we won!" Rouss prodded Jake in the face as he passed by, flitting off before Jake could smack his hand away.

He shook his head like a horse shaking off flies. He had a bit of time to deal with this.

Right now he was going to get changed and be happy with the boys.

~~~

Except he didn't have a message from Carter when he got out of the shower. Or when he'd put his suit back on and fixed his hair. Or when he was packed and ready to go home.

Jake was absolutely sure it  _had_  been Carter he'd seen on the ice – he looked up Carter's roster photo to make absolutely sure, and maybe also saved it to his phone, because  _wow_  Carter took beautiful pictures. Like, he'd already known that, but still.

He was getting distracted. He'd never know if he didn't ask.

 _You're still coming to my place, right?_  he texted.

He wasn't expecting a quick response.

_My things are still at the hotel. I'll come by later._

Well, that had to be a good thing, right? It was still following their original plan. Jake just had a lot more context for the particulars of that plan now.

And considering that Carter didn't question why Jake would be confirming the plan with him again, he definitely did see Jake on the ice.

There was a difference between fussing over his condo because his boyfriend was coming to stay with him and fussing because he was waiting to see if his boyfriend was going to break up with him, and Jake felt it keenly.

He knew logically that it would take Carter a while to get back to the hotel, get his things together, and catch a ride over to Jake's, but God, it felt like a lifetime.

Jake was just getting to the point of fretting over making his bed for the third time when Carter texted that he was there. It took a good ten seconds of deliberation to decide if he should go all the way downstairs to help Carter with his bags or just buzz him in.

In the end he decided on the latter, because if Carter hadn't actually brought his bags with him, Jake didn't want to have that conversation down in the foyer.

He would freely admit that his shoulders slumped with relief when he pulled open his door to find Carter there with his luggage.

And then the tension ratcheted right back up when Carter pushed his way past him into the apartment, hauling all of his things with him.

Jake bit his lip and closed the door, a little nervous at what he'd find when he turned around.

Carter had dumped his things on the floor and was watching him with crossed arms. He was still wearing his suit from the game and he looked painfully good, even with a coat obscuring some of the view.

He just stared at Jake, saying nothing. Apparently he wanted Jake to be the one to make the first move.

"So...I guess we really should have told each other our last names by now, eh?"

Carter's eye twitched a little.

Oh boy.

"Squirrel?" Carter asked lightly, his voice tight like a rubber band about to snap.

 _Oh boy_.

"Uhh..."

"All of this time I thought you were using like, some cutesy Swedish pet name like honey or sweetheart or some bullshit and your ass is out here calling me a fucking  _squirrel_?"

"Okay, I didn't mean it in a bad way-"

"You thought kitten was bad, and you were calling me a goddamn woodland rodent?"

"Squirrels are cute!" Jake protested desperately. This wasn't the argument he planned on having but in the scheme of things it wasn't the worst.

"Who the fuck calls their boyfriend a squirrel?!" Carter ripped his toque off his head and dumped it on the counter. His hair was mussed up, and Jake wanted to pet it down for him, but Carter was shucking his coat off, shaking his head the whole time.

"Fucking squirrel, I swear to God."

Desperately trying to change gears from where he thought he'd be, Jake said, "I thought you'd have googled it by now!"

Carter glared at him and took a step closer. "I thought I could trust you to use a nice nickname for me! I had to ask Linus what it meant only to find out that my boyfriend has been calling me a squirrel for months!"

Jake threw his arms in the air. "Everyone has Google Translate on their phones by now!"

"Having Google Translate doesn't mean I expect I have to use it!"

"I was speaking Swedish!"

"Yes you were, you dick, and that's really fucking rude of you to call me a fucking  _squirrel_  without at least letting me defend myself!"

"It's cute! Squirrels are cute! And sometimes you get a little..." Jake trailed off, waving one hand in the air.

Carter's eyes narrowed to slits and he stepped even closer. "I'm what, Jacob?"

 _OH BOY_.

Jake was wincing before the words were even out of his mouth, but it was like he couldn't stop them, watching the train wreck in slow motion from a distance.

"A little...squirrelly."

Everything was still for a harsh, breathless moment, and then Carter was a flurry of motion, ripping off his tie and shoving off his suit jacket and starting to unbutton his shirt, muttering, "I'll show you a fucking squirrel."

He gave up after two or three buttons in favor of grabbing Jake's face and hauling him down for one of the filthiest kisses of his life, licking his way into Jake's mouth like he was staking a claim. Jake groaned as one of Carter's hands slid back to tug at his hair and he pulled Carter closer, thrilling as he cupped Carter's ass in his palms, feeling a sense of vindictive pride that nobody else got to touch Carter like this.

When he gripped his ass, Carter went willingly, letting Jake hoist him up onto the counter and holding Jake close with his legs locked around his waist, as if Jake planned on being anywhere else.

They kissed desperately, hungrily, only separating so that Carter could drag Jake's shirt up over his head and then immediately attach himself to Jake's neck, nipping and worrying the skin there between his teeth.

Jake clutched Carter to him and huffed breathlessly. " _Ekorre_."

Carter bit down in retribution, and Jake's cock reminded him that he was learning all sorts of new things about himself today by twitching in his pants.

"Oh,  _fuck_."

He dragged Carter's mouth back to his own, frantic now as he tried to finish unbuttoning Carter's shirt, pushing it down over his shoulders and thanking whatever deity there was that Carter hadn't worn another shirt under it so all his hands smoothed over was warm, bare skin.

Carter felt so good under his hands, and there was something even better about knowing that the muscle he felt was like his own, born from the same sport that they both loved, years of lunging saves and catching pucks and-

"Oh fuck," he hissed again, panting into Carter's mouth as Carter took the initiative to start undoing his own belt. Jake helped to hold him up as Carter shimmied out of his pants and kicked his shoes and socks off, never once getting off the counter.

"Carts, your glove saves..."

He almost expected the pinch to his hip this time, but his yelp broke off into a moan at the way Carter smirked up at him, eyes mischievous through his lashes, bare-ass naked on Jake's counter, spread out like a dessert buffet and ready to send Jake to hell in the best way.

"What's that about glove saves?" Carter started kissing his way down Jake's chest while his hands dipped into the back of Jake's sweats, just barely slipping into the band of his underwear before letting it slap back against him.

Jake felt like he was overheating, panting and clutching at Carter as he ducked his head further and took one of Jake's nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking until Jake was gasping and oversensitive and struggling for words.

"So fucking hot," Jake stuttered.

Carter leaned up to flash him another damnable smirk, licking along Jake's jaw to his ear.

"Did my saves get you hard?"

He punctuated his words by squeezing Jake through his pants, tight and perfect and not nearly enough. Jake's moan was a broken, wounded thing, but it didn't stop him from nodding against Carter's neck, nose mashed against sweat-slicked skin.

Carter squeezed him again, slow and firm, a fucking reward.

"Did you really? You got hard for me out there on the ice, in front of thousands of people?"

His hand dropped lower, fondling Jake's balls before slowly sliding his hand back up. Jake could feel the nail of his thumb dragging along his dick even through two layers of fabric, and he shuddered.

Carter bit his earlobe, thumb pressing hard against the head of his dick.

"You got hard in your jock, your cock all aching and huge, just from watching me play?"

" _Oh, fuck_."

"Not yet, kitten," Carter tutted, and even that made Jake moan. He kissed Carter again, wantonly, needily, trying to express through lips and tongue and desire how tenuously he was holding on. Carter's arm came around him, nails scraping over his back, and Jake couldn't stop himself from grinding into Carter's other hand, searching for any sense of relief. He was so hard, hot and throbbing and leaking in his pants, and he knew that a wet spot was forming from the happy hum that Carter made into his mouth as he gentled his grip on Jake's dick, only chuckling softly as Jake whined.

"You're making a mess." Carter sounded far too chipper. Jake didn't even get a chance to scowl at him because Carter was tugging his sweats down along with his underwear, just enough that the elastic bands caught up under his balls and Jake's breath was hitching on a moan again, the snap of pressure sending a tight jolt of arousal up his spine.

He didn't have to look to see that his cock was thick and painfully red, straining against his stomach. Not when he could feel it, painfully hard, and not when he could see the flush spreading across Carter's neck and shoulders as he gazed at it.

Jake took a small moment to be smug, especially for having managed to shut Carter up. "Like what you see,  _ekorre_?"

Carter's revenge was a dry hand cradling his dick, calluses catching against the sensitive skin and making Jake twitch and gasp. Then Carter's thumb swept over the head of Jake's cock, gathering precum and smearing it down the length of him, easing the glide of his hand. It was hot and gross and Jake was humping into it, desperate for tighter, for faster, for  _more_.

And then Carter brought their cocks together, hissing at the contact but never breaking stride as he jacked them together, smooth and hot and steady. Jake braced himself with both hands on the counter, kissing Carter as deeply as he could between broken gasps and moans. Carter steadied him with a hand on his neck, thumb brushing his jaw as he directed the kiss, holding Jake where he wanted him and kissing him just as deliberately as he stroked their cocks.

Jake knew he wasn't going to last much longer, could feel himself tensing, his cock throbbing in time with Carter's hand.

"Carter," he breathed in warning. Carter swallowed that down too, licking the words from Jake's mouth as he tightened his grip and dragged the pad of a rough thumb over the head of Jake's dick and Jake was done, gasping into Carter's mouth as he shook, arms weakly holding him up. He came all over Carter's hand, Carter's cock, and Carter just kept jacking them through it, making a mess of Jake's cum over them both, the sight of it enough to make Jake have to bury a moan in Carter's shoulder as his oversensitive dick gave a valiant twitch.

When he felt like he could stand without falling over Jake nudged Carter's hand off of his cock, painfully sensitive and wrung out, but also returned the favor. Wrapping his big hand over Carter's, he pressed their foreheads together, staring into Carter's eyes. They were beautiful, deep blue hazed and feverish with arousal, and Jake felt like he was witnessing something profound as he watched those eyes spark and go wide and unfocused as Carter came against him.

For a minute they just breathed against each other, faces pressed together, panting the same hot air. Carter tucked his head against Jake's neck and Jake used his clean hand to stroke down his back, gentling him.

Jake's legs were starting to ache, and the cold of the granite countertop was starting to get uncomfortable, when Carter huffed against his neck.

"Better than a fucking squirrel, eh?"

He felt entirely justified in his groan. "Don't ruin the moment,  _ekorre_."

The nip against his throat was entirely expected and welcomed.

"C'mon," Jake sighed, "Let's get you cleaned up."

He hitched Carter up again, feeling his legs wrap around his waist, and scooped him off the counter. Carter weighed nearly as much as Jake, and so they didn't make it all the way to the bathroom that way and Jake didn't even try it. He gently lowered Carter to his feet, huffing a laugh at Carter's whine and pressing a kiss to his shoulder in apology.

Everything was soft as they waited for the shower to warm, their movements gentle and familiar. This was what Jake didn't want to lose, the practiced ease of sharing space, gently kissing a bruise on Carter's chest that he now knew was from a puck and having Carter sleepily nuzzle against his hair. Washing each other in slow, lazy movements, kissing languidly until the water began to cool. Patting themselves dry with thick towels and bundling together under Jake's duvet, not even bothering with clothes when they'd probably just slide them off again during the night.

They curled together in the middle of the bed, heads tilted together like they were cradling a secret between them. And they had been, for so long.

It was far past the time to set it free.

"So..." Jake said. "We both play in the NHL."

He brought a palm up to cup Carter's face, and Carter scoffed even as he nuzzled into it, pressing a kiss to Jake's palm.

"Figured that one out, kitten."

A rapidly dying part of Jake could barely be bothered by the nickname anymore. It was growing on him. It was dumb and embarrassing and special and theirs, their joke, just between them.

"I know you did. You're a smart nut,  _ekorre_."

He also never wanted to lose that grumpy squint Carter gave him, the one that made his chest feel light and ridiculously fond.

"I went to college, you know." Carter nestled closer to Jake, resting his head on Jake's arm.

"Mm?"

"I did. All four years. Degree and everything."

Jake trailed his free hand through Carter's short hair. "Okay, if you're the smart one then, what are we going to do next?"

"Right now? Sleep. I want to blow you when we wake up, and then maybe you can fuck me, because I've got a whole week before I need to be doing splits again. I don't want to put too much of a schedule in place, because these things should be allowed to develop organically and I'm always open to improvisation, but if you really want to know I have more than a few ideas I've been saving for just what exactly we could be getting up to this week..."

A flush was growing across Jake's chest in the dark of the room, and he steadfastly told his cock that it wasn't allowed to be interested again for another few hours. Even if he was keenly interested in what  _ideas_  Carter had been having. "You know what I mean."

He felt a pang of loss when Carter pulled himself up on one elbow, but only for a moment before Carter nudged him onto his back and rolled with him so that he was propped up against Jake's chest. They stayed like that for a moment, Carter biting his lip and trailing light fingers along Jake's collarbone.

"Do things have to change?" Carter finally asked. He wasn't looking at Jake, instead following the path that his fingers traced.

Jake grabbed his hand in a gentle grip and pulled it up to press a kiss to his palm, a scene they'd mimicked so many times before. Just one of dozens of little things that Jake wanted to keep, wanted to hoard jealously from prying eyes.

"I don't want them to," he said. "I like what we have. I like talking to you. I like taking you out or staying in, as long as I get to spend time with you. I like...what we have together."

Carter nodded knowingly, that smug smirk making a reappearance. "You like fucking me, you mean."

"No, I love that," Jake replied, and he luxuriated in the laugh he surprised from Carter, that beautiful smile something he wanted to see over and over until he could replicate it perfectly in his mind, and then keep on seeing it because it meant that he'd made Carter happy.

Carter slumped down to rest his chin on Jake's chest, still smiling as he ran his fingers over Jake's lips and down to his jaw.

"I like what we have too. I want to keep it. Maybe we have to think about if we want to go public at some point, and what that's going to look like. PR would have to be involved, and it would be a pain in the ass. But logistics would be easier to plan now that we both have a goddamn clue what the other one's actually doing all the time. And we know we both have summers off. So..."

"So..." Jake prompted, squeezing Carter's hip.

Carter sighed and slumped against his chest. "So I don't think we have to change anything. Not right now, anyway. And we both know where we stand, and what kind of things we have to be thinking about in the future. And we can cross that bridge when we both feel ready for it. But for right now...this is fun. And I like you a lot. And I want to keep on doing this."

He punctuated this by leaning up to kiss Jake, chaste at first until Jake ran his tongue over Carter's lips, and then sinking into the kiss, crawling up so that he could curl around Jake, cup his head between his hands and run his fingers through Jake's hair. Jake held him in place with his hands on his ass and couldn't imagine anything better than this moment, right here.

"And besides," Carter murmured against his lips, "Buffalo doesn't have any giant Swedes who fuck me into next week and call me a squirrel, so I guess I'll commute for one if I have to."

Jake narrowed his eyes and slid his hands up Carter's back to hold him in place as he rolled them over, settling his weight on Carter and rolling his hips against him in one move. "It better not," he mumbled nonsensically, nipping his way down Carter's neck.

Carter hummed and ran his hands through Jake's hair. "I don't know, Linus is nearly as tall as you, and I bet he'd call me a squirrel if I asked, but neither of us would want him to fuck me so that might be a sticking point. Now, if I held auditions-"

Jake stole the next words from his mouth, kissing him and grinding against him until his eyes were glazed and he forgot how to be a little shit for ten seconds.

"You need an audition,  _ekorre_?" He nipped at Carter's lower lip, watching how his pupils dilated.

"Well, you've got a week," Carter wheezed.

Jake kissed him again and slid a hand down between them, set on proving that he wouldn't need more than one night to win Carter's "auditions."

~~~

They didn't make plans to meet up during the postseason, not until they were both done. They knew it wouldn't be worth it; the chances of both of their teams not only making it this year, but meeting in the Finals, were next to nonexistent.

It was a shame; there would have been a certain poetry to the two 1970 teams fighting it out together, knowing that one would be going home with their first Stanley Cup.

Instead, they both agreed that when it was all over, they were going to go somewhere together. Meet up on neutral ground.

Go find that place somewhere warm where they hadn't been able to go during their bye-weeks because their schedules didn't match up.

"You know," Carter said, putting his hands on his hips and squinting off down the distance of the beach, his hat doing little to keep out the sun's glare. "Every year I tell myself that I'm made for the sun, all Jagr-style, and then every year I forget that I burn in like, ten minutes."

Jake hummed behind him and continued spreading sunscreen over his back and shoulders.

"Don't you placate me," Carter griped. It was more for the sake of argument than actual irritation. "You know it's not fair, your pasty Scandinavian ass doesn't even turn a little bit red and I'm out here looking like a lobster bake."

"You can do me next." He could hear the smile in Jake's voice, knowing that Jake said that just to see if Carter could resist his kneejerk innuendo. "Preventing skin cancer is important."

"Keep chirping me and you'll be preventing a whole lot of other things."

But he let Jake turn him around in his arms, putting his back to the ocean. Jake looked unfairly sexy, tanned skin peeking out between the dark lines of his tattoos and the contours of his long torso utterly bare to his board shorts. He had his snapback on backwards and dark sunglasses beneath it, the uniform of a douchebag, except Carter was also so here for it.

Carter went cross-eyed trying to follow Jake's finger as he dabbed sunscreen on Carter's nose, carefully spreading it down over his cheeks.

"C'mon,  _ekorre_ ," Jake chided. But even if Carter couldn't see his eyes he could see his dumbass smirk and he knew his eyes would be doing that stupid crinkling thing that Carter loved.

"You know, this is Hawaii. There are a lot of tourists here. I bet I could find me another big Swede to call me mean names who gets sunburn like a normal person."

Jake's hands slid around his waist, thumbs settling in the back pockets of his swim shorts.

"But you love me," Jake teased. He flashed that smile again, wide and white and pretty enough to make Carter's heart twist in the best way. And suddenly, words that had felt too big to be anything more than clearly mocking were so, so easy to say.

"I do love you."

He watched as red bloomed across Jake's cheeks, both giddily and painfully aware that it wasn't just sunburn on him. Leaning up on his toes, Carter kissed him, short and sweet.

And then he slapped his ass with a resounding  _smack_. God, he loved that ass. Which he expressed as often as possible.

"C'mon, kitten," he mimicked, "Are we going swimming or not?"

It turned out that Jake couldn't carry him very far, but he could carry him far enough to toss him in the ocean.

Jake told Carter that he loved him for the first time in between attempts to lovingly drown him.

When they finally did come out, it was a story that Carter would be proud to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [swedishgoaliemafia](https://swedishgoaliemafia.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Chauffeur, Chauffeur) Come and Take Me Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638442) by [pinkrhinoceros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkrhinoceros/pseuds/pinkrhinoceros)
  * [[podfic] Want to believe my own hype (but it's too untrue)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466297) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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